


Mirror, Mirror

by candygramme



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:24:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candygramme/pseuds/candygramme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen Ackles is a well-respected photographer, courted by the media and the shiny people of Tinseltown.  Sadly, he's getting bored with success and beginning to become self destructive.  In an attempt to break Jensen out of his ennui, his friend, Steve Carlson, offers him a challenge.  "Take the first person we meet when we leave the party and make them into a star before the year is over..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror, Mirror

LAX is a busy place even at 5pm, and the young man leaving security with his bags hadn't ever been here before. Fresh off the flight from San Antonio, he was eager to see the sights, experience Tinseltown, and just drink in the experience. Looking around for his new agent, he failed to spot any sign of him. Sitting himself down on one of the benches beside the exit, he pulled out his cell and dialed the agency's number. 

"Hello?" There was static on the line, distorting the sound of the receptionist's voice, but the kid continued to talk, excitement audible in his voice. "It's Jared Padalecki. I'm at the airport, and I don't see Mr. Kripke anywhere. He was going to send someone to meet me; what do I do?" 

"Search me." The woman's voice crackled, but was still distressingly audible. "Guess you'd better come to the office. I'll tell him you're coming." 

The cab ride down to Hollywood was punctuated by Jared's exclamations as each new landmark was revealed. The cabbie seemed to catch his enthusiasm, pointing out the particular part of Sunset that had been 'blown up' in that recent Shia LaBoeuf movie, while Jared oohed and ahhed at each reveal. 

Kripke's offices were off Hollywood Boulevard, and at the sight of the infamous Hollywood Sign, Jared virtually had an orgasm. Climbing out of the cab on Yucca, the street listed on Kripke's card, Jared looked around himself but failed to see anything meeting the description of a talent agency, and as the cab pulled away he was suddenly assailed by insecurity. He began to walk along the street, looking for the numbers that would indicate his whereabouts, but there was still nothing. The day was coming to an end, the sun painting the sky in streaks of orange and purple as it ebbed through the dusty sky, and Jared was alone and far from home. 

He hefted his suitcase again, wishing he'd brought slightly less with him, and made his way along towards the lights of a bar he could see in the next block. Entering, the cool of the air conditioning made him feel better at once, and he set his belongings down and ordered a beer, pausing to ask the bartender if he knew of the agency he was seeking. The bartender didn't, and neither did the other inhabitants of the bar – a group of men who were clustered around the pool table at the back of the room. Shrugging, dispirited, Jared attempted to call the office again, but got only the voicemail. 

Leaving a tip on the counter he sighed and headed out once more, thinking that it was time to find himself a bed for the night, deciding that the best way to proceed would be to start a fresh search in the morning. 

It was almost full dark now, sticky with the heat and the thick air. Traffic barreled down the street as Jared walked along, retracing his footsteps. He picked up his pace a little, long legs eating up the sidewalk. He hadn't noticed the men follow him out of the bar and didn't hear them as they came up behind him. 

His first intimation that there was anything wrong was when he felt the blow to the back of his head and the world began to spin. He'd dropped to his knees, scared and confused. When they circled him, jeering and catcalling, he'd tried to talk to them, tried to remonstrate with them. All it had gotten him was violence. One man kicked him in the ribs, while another grabbed his suitcase and twitched it out of his hands, sending him off balance. A third growled what must have been abuse in a language that he'd never heard before, and begun to kick him over and over again. It hadn't been long before he'd lost consciousness. 

When at last he'd come to, the men who had attacked him were long gone, and he was stripped of his wallet, his phone, his watch and his boots. His suitcase was long gone. His head was reeling, and he could only crawl to the wall that ran alongside the sidewalk, lean against it and vomit until there was nothing left in his stomach. 

He attempted to rise to his feet, but there seemed to be something wrong with his knee, and it wouldn't bear his weight, folding under him as he attempted to push himself to standing. Tears prickled the backs of his eyes. He was alone and helpless now, and it was going to be a long night.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

The National Press Club Awards were in full swing. Jensen lounged in his seat, sipping his scotch and watching the parade of recipients as they feigned amazement, accepted their awards and burbled for their allotted fifteen seconds of fame before returning to the body of the theater. Leaning in towards his companion, he whispered, "Fuck, dude, I'm bored. Can we please go?"

Steve Carlson, for once dressed in a suit and tie, chuckled. "No, man, you have to stay until you've been presented with your award. Anything less would be considered churlish." 

"I've got enough awards." Jensen gestured to the waiter, and was almost immediately presented with another scotch. "Don't need any more." He was about to rise from his chair when he suddenly became aware that he was being stalked. 

"Oh, shit! Stand by to repel boarders," he hissed as a pair of long haired lovelies made their way over to him with squeals of joy. 

"Boarders?" asked Steve, shaking his head. "Dude, you're the lucky one, aren't you?" As Jensen was swarmed by his admirers, Steve sat back with a grin on his face and watched his friend attempting to extricate himself from the unwelcome attentions of the two starlets. 

"Jensen!" The pretty redhead bent to kiss Jensen extravagantly. 

"Danneel, how's it hanging?" Jensen gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and played with his shot glass. 

"I got a part in a series. Jensen, I think that this is my big break. I need some photos for my portfolio. I could be the next _face_. Jensen, please…?" Her body was canted forward, offering her ample breasts for his examination, and Steve snickered quietly when his friend failed to respond the way she apparently wanted. 

"Sorry, Danni, I'm fully booked for the next few weeks." Jensen drained his glass, and the girl pouted at him, delicious lips offered in supplication. 

"You're too mean," she said. "And in front of my friend Sandy, too." She sat down on his lap as the tiny, dark haired girl gave him a huge smile and a little wave. "You know, we could have a wonderful time together at a photo-shoot, just the three of us. You could take some unique shots, I bet.' Her little hand pawed at Jensen's belt as she spoke, leaving him with no illusions as to the nature of those unique shots. He took hold of the questing hand and lifted it, then set her back on her feet. 

"You know, it sounds really tempting, ladies, and I regret having to decline, but I never mix business with pleasure." Getting up, he turned to Steve. "I'm done here," he growled. "I'm going to go. Feel free to accept my award for me, dude. Just tell them that I'm in Outer Mongolia or something." 

As he turned on his heel, he could hear the MC beginning to announce the next award, and rather than turning to see who would receive it, he strode briskly through to the back of the auditorium and out into the night. 

He'd come to the event in Steve's car, and he considered calling a cab for a moment, but the evening was fine, and cooler than usual with a fresh breeze blowing through from the ocean. Turning his face towards West Hollywood, thinking he’d walk for a while before heading home, he set off, frowning as he pondered his current state of boredom. 

He had everything any man could want. Here he was at thirty, acclaimed by the press and advertising world for his skill with a camera. He had toys, friends, and as many lovers as one man could handle, but he didn't have what he wanted, because he had no idea what that might be. 

His life was a shell, an empty shell, and he didn't have a clue what he could do to change things. 

He heard a soft whimpering as he passed a darkened doorway, and looked over to see a young man huddled there, half-seen in the shadowy haven. He had the beginnings of a straggly beard, and his face was covered in scabs and bruises, but he looked as if he was not long for this world, and Jensen felt a pang of sympathy for the young man who had apparently fallen so far down on his luck. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a couple of banknotes and held them out to the vagrant. "Here you go, buddy," he said, already losing interest in the youngster's plight. "Go find yourself a bed for the night." 

The kid he'd given the money to was already forgotten as he flagged down a cab and gave the driver directions to his house.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

The Oscars after-party was in full swing. Jensen was feeling less than motivated, but he went through the motions, snapping the beautiful people one or two at a time and wishing that there were something else. Steve – there as his assistant – could tell that his buddy's heart wasn't in it, and he was baffled as he followed Jensen around, passing him the zoom lens, finding the particular filter he needed and feeding him alcohol.

It didn't take Jensen long to start brooding, and it was with a sinking heart that Steve realized that his friend was actually becoming depressed. He paused for a moment, his brow creased in a frown as he pondered what to do for his best friend. Finally he shouldered the bag of accessories he was toting, grabbed a couple of scotches from one of the passing trays and went to steer Jensen out of the melee and into a quiet corner, where he pressed the photographer down into a seat and sat beside him. "You've got to snap out of this, dude. You're going to blow your whole life if you don't get a grip on yourself." 

Jensen shrugged his shoulders. Raising world-weary eyes to Steve's, he spread his hands. "I've got enough, dude, and this is just no fun any more. There's no challenge, no excitement, and no sincerity in the people I meet. They're all nice to me, because they want something from me. I think you're the only one that doesn't." 

"Guess I should work on that," grinned Steve. "There must be something you've got that I could use." 

Laughing for the first time that evening, Jensen sipped the drink Steve had brought for him. "All I want is a challenge. I'm bored, I can make anyone look good, but I really don't like any of them. I'm just breeding monsters. You saw them yesterday. 'Photograph me, and you can have me'; I don't fucking want them, any of them!" he said, vehemently. 

"You want a challenge," murmured Steve, suddenly clapping his hands together. He grinned, sharp teeth glittering under the disco lights. "Okay! Here's one, if you dare to take it. I bet that you can't take the first person you meet when we leave here and transform them into 'the new face of America'. If you lose, you make that album with me, and we promote it together. What do you say?" 

"What are you smoking, dude?" Jensen laughed, but there was a gleam in his eye that hadn't been there before. "Always supposing I was to go for it, what would I get if I won?" 

Laughing, Steve shrugged. "What to give the guy who has everything? Other than penicillin, that is. Let me see…" He pursed his lips, pretending to consider the options. "I dunno. What do you want?" 

There was a long moment, during which Steve snagged another couple of glasses from a passing waiter, handing one off to Jensen and knocking back the other with a satisfied grunt. Jensen didn't drink, he merely studied the way that the alcohol swirled in the heavy crystal glass and mused, his lips pursed in thought. Finally, he looked up at his buddy, and a slow smile crept across his face, a real one, one that reached his eyes and crinkled up the skin in the corners. "Well, hell, why not?" he said, holding up his glass in a toast before downing the drink in one. "I reckon I'll have your Les Paul, if I win – which I will, by the way." 

"That guitar is precious to me, man! I'm gonna make you work for it, you know that, don't you?" Steve was grinning in relief, pointed canines showing in a rare, full smile. "Okay, shall we go find the next face of America, or do you want to go back into the midst of the merry throng?" 

"Dude, anything but that." Jensen's smile still lit his eyes, and Steve felt a warm glow of satisfaction at having steered his friend away from his ennui. "Let's go. If I have to make nice to one more starlet or hanger on, I won't be responsible for my actions. If fucking Zac Efron comes whining about his PR shots to me one more time I'll stuff a goddamn lobster claw right up his cute, jailbait ass and twist." 

"Oh, jeez, Jen, why hold back? Why not tell me how you really feel?" Clapping Jensen on the shoulder, Steve rose to his feet, as if to head for the door. A hand on his arm held him back. 

"Hey, hold on there a minute. How long do I have to effect this miracle?" Jensen was still smirking, his confidence almost too cocky. 

Steve elbowed him in the ribs. "Okay, man, let's see. You have a year. By the time they run the Oscars next year, your random face is going to be on billboards all over the city, or you lose!" 

"Done." Jensen laughed as he held out his hand to bump knuckles and then shake on their challenge. "Let's go find this face then, shall we?"

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

It took twenty minutes of determined schmoozing to make their way out of the crowded party. Everyone wanted a piece of Jensen, and when they finally succeeded in reaching an exit it turned out to be the one that the wait staff were using, and it led to the kitchens. They went for it anyway, sneaking through the kitchen and snagging a vol-au-vent each along the way, feeling like naughty children. It was a simple matter to slip through the busy room and out into the alley behind the club where the revels were being held. Outside on the pavement they paused, inhaling the night air. Overwhelmingly, there was the smell of garbage, discarded and left to rot in the heat of downtown LA, and even though it was close to 1am, there was still heat coming off the pavement.

The two men began to pick their way through the alley, sidestepping cardboard boxes and plastic sacks of garbage that spilled their contents in messy profusion. There were deep shadows all around, and the stench of decay assailed their nostrils. Hurrying through the debris, Jensen almost fell over the body that was partly concealed by cardboard. 

"Jesus, fuck!" The expletive was automatic as he staggered a couple of steps, arms windmilling in an effort to retain his balance. The offending body let out a groan and sat up, arms up as if to defend itself from attack. 

"I think you've found your new face, dude," said Steve as Jensen turned to check on the man on the ground. It was difficult to see in the thick gloom of the alley, and all Jensen could tell was that his new model was male, dirty and scared. The man was curled in on himself, and one of his arms was raised up so that it masked his face. He froze. 

"Hey, dude, it's okay," he murmured, voice soft as if he was trying to talk a scared puppy out from under a chair. "Nobody's going to hurt you; I just didn't see you, is all. I'm sorry if you thought I was attacking you." 

The arm remained up over the vagrant's face for a few moments, and Jensen was starting to think that maybe he was feeble minded, but then, suddenly the young man lowered his defenses and sat up straight. "Sorry," he mumbled, voice deep and rumbling. "Didn't mean to get in your way." 

"Hey, I was the one that got in the way." Jensen surveyed the youngster, who was now slowly getting to his feet. "C'mon, dude, let me buy you a coffee or something to make up for it."

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

The all night diner they ended up in was a paean of praise to the culinary art of deep frying. Jensen bought all three of them coffee and then, after looking more closely at his guest, asked for menus, ending up ordering a plate of roast chicken and fries for the youngster.

When the server brought their food, she was looking less than pleased to have the young vagrant at one of her tables, and the object of her scorn didn't really help as he fell on the food as if he hadn't seen any for days. 

Jensen reflected that more than likely he hadn't. Studying his new-found companion, it was hard to tell what was under the dirt and the bruises. The kid's face was swollen, displaying old bruises in a symphony of yellow and green, and he had at least a week's growth of beard on his chin. His hair was long and greasy and hung in rat's tails around his face, but his body was lean, his shoulders were wide, and he was tall, much taller than Jensen, even though Jensen wasn't exactly a midget. 

Grinning at Steve, Jensen snickered. "You must be feeling sweet and petite," he said, letting his gaze travel up and down Steve's length. "Stand between the two of us, and we'll protect you." Steve didn't deign to respond, but aimed a kick at Jensen's shins that made him yelp. 

The young man's plate was empty, cleaned of any stray scrap of nourishment, before Jensen went into his pitch. Under the grime, the kid's face had taken on a little color; his posture had become a little more relaxed. When Jensen leaned forward and asked him his name, he flushed, lowered his gaze a moment before replying, and Jensen was starting to wonder all over again if he'd picked a simpleton for his new face by the time he finally cleared his throat. 

"Jared, my name is Jared." 

"Well, Jared," murmured Jensen, smiling a little in relief that communication appeared possible after all. "My name is Jensen, and this guy here sporting the huge amounts of bling is called Steve, and we have a proposition for you." 

The young man's eyes opened wide at that, and he made a startled sound in the back of his throat. "A proposition?" he said at last. 

"It's okay. It's nothing illegal." Steve chimed in, a reassuring smile on his face. "You see, it's all about a bet I made with my man Jensen here." 

Jared frowned, obviously not understanding what was being discussed at all, and Jensen reached to pat his shoulder. "Ignore him; he's an idiot," he said. "You see, I'm a photographer, and he bet me that I couldn't take the first person I met and turn them into the next face of America. You were the first person I met, and so I'd like to turn you into a famous face, if you don't mind." 

Rolling his eyes, Steve smacked Jensen around the back of the head. "It's so not definite that you'll be a famous face. He's really arrogant, and that's what this whole thing is all about – he thinks he can manipulate the media any way he wants. I don't believe it, and if you want to come along for the ride, at least it will get you off the street. What do you say?" 

"You want to photograph _me?_ " Jared's whiskered face split in a wide, white grin. "That's the funniest thing I ever heard. You're nuts, both of you!" 

"Probably!" Jensen laughed. "So will you play?" 

Again there was a pause. Jared's grin faded slowly, and he looked between the two of them as if he was expecting some kind of punch line. "What's the catch?" he asked. 

"Seriously, man, no catch." Jensen fumbled in his wallet and fished out one of his cards, handing it to Jared with a smile that he hoped was reassuring. "This is me. You can see I'm for real. You wanna see some of the photos I've taken? I can show you, but you're gonna have to come to my studio for that." 

Still looking a little nervous, Jared studied the card in his hand, tracing and retracing the words. "You're not a white slaver, then?" he murmured at length. "Well, you wouldn't get much for me now anyway. Maybe I should take a chance." 

"I'm hoping that means that you're gonna take me up on the project?" Beaming, Jensen offered his hand for Jared to shake. The other man frowned and looked at his own grimy hand. 

"I'd better take a raincheck on that." He looked a little shame-faced as he rubbed his hand on a napkin. "I'm kinda filthy." 

"Yeah, you are." Steve had been sitting back, watching the interplay between the two men. Now that Jared was apparently on board with Jensen's bet, he knew that he wasn't just going to win by default. "Jensen here will help you out with that." He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, forestalling Jensen, who was reaching for his, and went to settle the bill. "Come on, guys, let's go get started."

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

They'd dropped Steve off at his house in the valley, and then Jensen had pointed his car to home. Jensen lived out in Malibu, and, although he wasn't quite on the beach, he was close enough that the sound of the surf could be heard as they pulled into the driveway.

The sky was beginning to lighten, and it was plain that it would soon be morning. Jensen hopped out of the car and went to open the front door, then returned to the car when he noticed that Jared hadn't moved. 

"Come on," he said, gesturing that the other man should follow. 

"Dude, I can't! Look at this place. You don't want me in there, messing up your fancy house." Jared's expression had turned stony, and it was evident that he thought Jensen was playing some game of his own. 

"Course you can. Come on, man," repeated Jensen. "How do you suppose we're gonna get you cleaned up and ready to model for me if you don't get your skinny ass indoors? You think I'm gonna hose you down in the back yard, or what? Besides, I don't know about you, but I'm kinda tired. It's way past my bedtime." 

Jared studied his rescuer for a very long drawn out moment before finally relaxing a little and nodding. "I guess, if you're set on it, I can at least come get a shower or something. Once you see what's under the dirt you might change your mind." 

He climbed out of the car and stood looking at Jensen. "You sure?" he asked, his broad forehead creased with anxiety. Jensen's impatient grunt seemed to reassure him, and he began to limp towards the front door. 

Jensen's house was spacious, with the inevitable glass wall overlooking the bay on the front of the house. Terracotta tiles strewn with expensive rugs, white walls hung with photographs and a large TV and games console were pretty much the only things in the living room. Jared paused for a moment, visibly stunned. "Don't you sit down to watch TV?" he asked his host. 

"To tell you the truth, I've never actually turned that thing on," replied Jensen, grinning. "I usually watch the one in my bedroom. Haven't got round to getting a couch or anything yet." 

Jared smiled a little at that. "How long have you lived here?" he asked, and Jensen knew he was expecting to hear him say that he'd just moved in, because he’d had this conversation before with just about everyone he knew. He was already crossing the room, but he turned back and smirked. 

"Couple of years now," he murmured, and as Jared grinned, he began to color up, a blush staining his freckled cheeks. "I just… didn't get round to shopping for furniture." 

That provoked a laugh from Jared, and seemed to break the ice. As Jensen led him through the house to the rear he seemed somewhat more relaxed. Pushing open a door to reveal a bedroom, Jensen waved him in and then crossed to throw open the door to an en-suite bath. "You can make yourself at home if you like. I'll find you some towels if you want to take a shower." 

"Could use a razor too, if you have one." Jared was already making tracks for the bathroom, shedding his filthy coat and sweat-stained shirt as he went. "Oh, man, I'm gonna think I died and went to heaven." 

Nodding, Jensen gathered the discarded clothing into a heap and left the room, returning a few moments later with a stack of towels, a plastic garbage sack and an electric razor. Jared was already in the shower, and Jensen deposited the towels on top of the toilet tank beside the tub, calling out to his guest that he was taking the rest of his clothes away. Jared merely grunted as Jensen tossed the disgusting garments into the sack and tied it ready for the garbage truck, leaving his new guest to enjoy the sybaritic delight of feeling clean again at last.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Jensen was standing beside the window, gazing at the steadily lightening sky as Jared returned swathed in towels and looking pink and well scrubbed. As he heard the halting footsteps approach, he turned to survey his guinea pig, wondering just what the grime had been hiding.

He caught his breath. The man was gorgeous, that much was plain despite the bruises that marred his otherwise handsome face. High cheekbones, knowing, slanted eyes that seemed to give the impression that their owner was amused at everything, and a strong, determined chin dominated Jared's face. The long, unruly dark hair had been combed neatly back and was still wet, revealing a broad forehead, currently wearing a scowl. Somewhere along the line he'd broken a front tooth, but that, Jensen thought, was easily fixed.

"How're you feeling?" Jensen asked, pursing his lips as he studied the other man. "You tired? You want anything before you hit the hay?" 

"Guess I'm gonna need some clothes, unless you're planning on keeping me tied to the bed or something," said Jared, shifting uneasily. 

"That's for sure." Jensen nodded. "I figure most of my stuff will be too small for you. What do you usually like to wear to sleep? Once we wake up, I was gonna get some stuff delivered, then we can head out and hit some of the stores. Better tell me your sizes." Jared was big, and Jensen, used to glamorous men and women, was already mentally planning his first shoot with Jared. He'd take mostly black and white shots to start with, play up those bruises, maybe photograph the kid as a boxer. He knew for sure that the photos would sell. Even without seeing the total package it was evident that Jared had some serious muscle going on. He could almost taste his victory. All he would need to do was coach Jared a little, get him to walk tall and quit hunching down - maybe coat him with a little baby oil. Jared's voice jerked him out of his reverie. 

"I usually… I mean, I used to just wear pajama bottoms to sleep in," he mumbled. "Whatever you can spare'll do, though, or I can go commando; it's not like it's cold or anything." 

Nodding, Jensen made for his own room, returning a few minutes later with a pair of faded pajamas. "They're bound to be a little short for you," he said, smiling as Jared held out his hand gratefully. "But we'll sort you out with your own stuff as soon as we've had a little sleep."

"Awesome, thanks." Jared's hand shook as he took the offered garment. "Listen, it's been a week or two since I've even seen a bed. I can't believe you're doing this for me, when you don't even know me." 

"I don't know you yet, man, but we're going to be sick of each other by the time we're done." Jensen gave him his most blinding smile. "You're gonna be famous, Jared. I'm going to make you the face of the year, because that was the bet, and I refuse to lose." He pursed his lips in that familiar expression Jared was already coming to recognize, and he walked around Jared, studying what little was visible of him from the towels in which he was draped. "If the rest of you matches what I've seen so far, we're gonna be in clover." 

Blushing red, Jared clutched his towels to him, and Jensen snickered. "Okay, I'm going to bed. I'll talk to you when we wake, all right? If you're up before I am, the kitchen is through there. Help yourself to whatever you want to eat."

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Jared stood watching him as he turned and headed for his bedroom, and it was quite some time before he turned around and went back to the room he'd been given. Pulling the blinds to, he dressed swiftly in the pajama pants and slid between cool linen sheets, moaning softly as tired bones and exhausted muscles made themselves comfortable at last.

He'd been living on adrenaline for so long that it took only a minute or so before he was out like a light.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

It was after noon by the time Jensen emerged from slumber and padded to the kitchen in search of coffee and sustenance. All was quiet, and it didn't seem as if Jared had stirred from his room. He set the coffee maker going and went to the fridge to find himself a couple of waffles. Popping them into the toaster, he leaned against the counter and frowned as he considered what they should do first. It seemed that the priority would be to get Jared some clothes so that they could go out, and then he'd get his new guinea pig signed up with skin care, stylists and model coaching.

Carrying his coffee into the office, he set it down, then went back to pour some for Jared, scowling as he tried to recall just how the kid had taken it the night before. Finally, he dumped cream and sugar into it and headed for Jared's bedroom, tapping on the door before entering to find his visitor still sleeping, flat on his back with his arms stretched wide as if to embrace the world. 

"Rise and shine, big guy," he called out, setting the mug of coffee down on the nightstand. Jared came awake with a start, half sitting as he stared around himself with panicked eyes. For a moment, Jensen thought he was going to run, but then he relaxed, leaning back with a shame-faced expression. 

"Damn it! I think I just lost ten years of growth right there," he murmured. 

"Guess that's a good thing," said Jensen. "Seems to me that you don't need to grow much more. You want some breakfast?" 

"God, yes." Jared's stomach growled then as if agreeing with him, and Jensen stifled a laugh. 

"Okay. Come on into the kitchen. I can make you something to take the edge off, and then we'll discuss going out for some real food." Turning, Jensen left him to it, heading back to his office and his plans. 

When Jared finally appeared, clean and dressed in a pair of Jensen's shorts and a t-shirt that clung where it touched, Jensen had waffles and eggs ready for him, and was already working his way through a list of activities he felt they needed. 

"As I see it, the first thing we need to do is go shopping. You need clothes, because you can't wear mine forever. You're too big for most of them." He checked his list and nodded. "I think we need to get your knee checked out, and make sure that you're gonna be fit enough for the rest of the program, so I've set up an appointment with my doc to get you a physical, but that's later this afternoon." 

Jared paused in the middle of raising a forkful of food to his mouth. "Hey, wait up a minute. All this is gonna cost a fortune. You do realize that I don't have any money, don't you? Are you gonna sell my organs to pay for it all, or what?" 

"Don't sweat it, man." Jensen grinned around a bite of waffle. "Think of it as an investment. Let's not forget that you're gonna be the next face of America, or I lose my bet. That means a little speculation before we start to accumulate, but I'm telling you now, I don't do things by half measures. I intend to win." He chuckled and turned to put his empty plate into the dishwasher. "Besides, I've got enough money. It's not like I'll be hurtin' if I spend a little on grooming you." 

"Well, okay." Jared finished the food on his plate, rising to his feet to put his dishes away, and promptly stumbled over his own feet, falling to the ground with a crash. "Shit!" 

"You okay?" Jensen was up off his stool in a flash and around the table to help his visitor up, and Jared nodded, although he was wincing as he rose to his feet. 

"I just don't see too well, and they smashed my glasses up when they mugged me." As Jared gazed up at Jensen, face flushed with embarrassment, Jensen could see that the young man's tip tilted eyes were in fact unfocused and slightly crossed. As he gazed down into the hazy eyes, Jensen felt an unfamiliar jolt somewhere deep down inside, and drew in his breath sharply, feeling flustered. 

"I… I guess we need to call into an optician's first then, and get you some contacts or something," he murmured, trying to recover his train of thought. "So let's go." 

Before Jared had the chance to say anything else, Jensen was towing him through the house and out to his car.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

The afternoon was a whirlwind. They hit the nearby café for their all-day breakfast, and Jared ate his own, followed by half of Jensen’s. Then there was an ophthalmologist who tested Jared's eyesight and fitted him with contact lenses. There was a succession of clothing stores that took his measurements and kitted him out with everything from silk underwear to jeans and sportswear. He was measured up for a couple of suits and a tux, and made to promise he'd be back in three days for a fitting. Jensen supervised, occasionally putting an item of clothing into his arms and once vetoing a bright pink shirt that Jared had been eying wistfully. The platinum credit card was offered again and again, and as Jensen watched, Jared grew more and more wide-eyed.

Shoes followed; soft, hand stitched leather loafers, ergonomically designed trainers, a pair of hiking boots, and shiny dress shoes all made their way into the trunk of Jensen's SUV. Jensen had even made a brief foray into an up-market furniture store and purchased a couch, leaving strict instructions that it was to be delivered that evening. At 3pm, Jensen was leading Jared into an upscale beauty parlor to have his hair styled, and his hands manicured. Introducing him to a slender, predatory looking blonde, Jensen announced that he would be looking for a personal stylist for the duration of their project, and that just as soon as the scrapes and bruises healed Jared could look forward to facials and massages, pedicures and cleanses. Jared began to look quite terrified.

Then there was the dentist who took impressions so she could make a cap for the front tooth that had been broken during Jared's sojourn on the street. She was tiny and blonde, and very, very pretty, but she worried him immensely as she peered into his mouth and began to make comments about his stature, chuckling to herself as she did things to him. When he finally extricated himself from the chair and staggered out to find Jensen, he shook his head, bemused. "She's completely insane," he muttered as they left the surgery. 

"Yeah." Jensen cast an amused look back at the dentist's office. "Alona's batshit crazy, but she's a good dentist. I've been going to her for years, and my teeth are great."

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

It was close to five when they pulled up at the clinic, where Jensen had arranged for a complete physical for his protégé.

The clinic was unlike any medical facility Jared had ever been in, or so he confided to Jensen. There was classic rock playing softly in the waiting room, and they didn't have to wait more than a few moments before the doctor emerged from his surgery to shake hands and introduce himself to Jared with a smiling, "Call me Tom – everyone does." 

Dr. Welling – Tom as he preferred to be called, was almost as tall as Jared, and so handsome it seemed impossible that he wasn't actually in movies, although Jared had been wondering why Jensen himself had stayed behind the camera, because he’d never seen anyone better looking in his life. Clapping Jensen on the shoulder, Tom led them away into his examination room, where he directed Jared to change out of his new clothes and into one of the inevitable green gowns that fastened down the back. "I make my patients wear them at all times. It stops them from talking back to me and keeps them humble," he said with a smirk. 

Changed and ready, Jared submitted himself to all the usual tests, and a few that surprised him. Tom proved to be both amusing and competent, and Jared began to find himself entertained by him. The doctor had made irritated sounds as he examined Jared's damaged knee, and sent him to the X-ray department, asking him to wait while he got back the resulting film. 

Dressing himself once more in the brand new jeans and silk shirt Jensen had chosen for him, Jared limped back into the waiting area to sink down into one of the overstuffed armchairs and wait. Jensen gave him a swift but blinding grin and tossed aside the magazine he'd been paging through. "How're you bearing up? He's pretty thorough, isn't he?" 

"Yeah. I think he's inspected every part of me, and some of them twice." Jared grinned, body moving restlessly as he recounted the indignities that Tom had inflicted on him. "I'm just waiting for the X-ray of my knee to come back. Guess my body fluids will take a day or so to process, but he was certainly pretty thorough about collecting those too." 

The music that had been playing in the background stopped suddenly, and Tom popped his head around the door. "Jared, if you'd like to come back in, I've got your X-rays." 

"Come with?" It was plain to Jensen that Jared was suddenly feeling unaccountably nervous, and he saw the young man cast a longing look at him. After a brief moment, Jensen rose to follow Jared into the examination room. 

"It looks as if you've got some damage to the joint, Jared," said Tom, once the two of them were settled. He had hung the film up on the wall, and now he flicked on the light that would illuminate it for them, beginning to point out the problems with the joint. "I think you're going to need surgery to correct it, and you're likely to have problems later if you don't do something about it now." 

"So how soon can you fit him in?" Jensen leaned forward to ask his question over top of Jared's astonished exclamation. "He needs to be ready as soon as possible. He'll be starting lessons next week, and I need him mobile." 

"I'm afraid it's going to take him a few weeks to be out of plaster following surgery." Tom shot Jensen a meaningful glance. "But you'll be happy to know that his facial injuries are all superficial and if we book him in for surgery next Monday, we can do any facial surgery you might want at the same time. We'll have the lab results back by then, too, so if he's got the pox or swamp fever or anything like that, we'll know the worst." 

"Now hold on there!" Jared rose to his feet, a protest on his lips. "Facial surgery? The pox? What the fuck…?" 

Jensen smirked. "Easy, tiger! Tom's always keen to embellish nature. I'm pretty sure you won't need any kind of facial surgery. The doc here always seems to think he can improve on the raw material, but I'm inclined to suspect that in your case he's wrong." Turning back to Tom, Jensen swiftly gave him the go ahead to book Jared in for surgery on the Monday, and as they rose to go, Tom gave his new patient a thumbs up. 

"See you Monday, Jared," he said, smiling, and Jared, who now seemed deeply suspicious of his new doctor, merely grunted as they made for the exit.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Later on that evening, coiffed, probed, moisturized and dressed in designer duds, Jared hopped back into Jensen's vehicle to head for his temporary home. Jensen had made sure that he was full of the amazing eggplant parmesan as served up by Canter's Deli, and he could see that his protégé was beginning to relax a little at last.

Smiling to himself, Jensen had been cataloguing Jared's physical qualities ever since they had arisen that day, and he had to admit that the kid had promise. For sure Jared had amazingly attractive eyes, and the dimples that bracketed his blinding smile were deep and gorgeous. He wasn't sure about the rest of his features, marred as they were by the still healing cuts and bruises that he'd sustained from the attack. It was plain that the young man had high, Slavic cheekbones, and Jensen was convinced that he'd be a great photographic model, once he had healed from all his injuries. He had to admit though that Jared was not the most graceful of beings – in fact he was a complete klutz! 

As they arrived back at Jensen's house, he was itching to start setting up programs that would remediate the obstacles to his success, because he was absolutely convinced that Jared would be good enough to win his bet for him. All he had to do was make sure that his new model didn't get stage fright. The couch arrived and was duly placed in the hitherto empty living area, and Jensen had to admit that it did actually make the place look more homelike.

He left Jared happily sitting in front of the television with the PS3 while he made for his office to get on the phone, and before too long he was talking to his own personal trainer, doing his best to sweet talk her into coming to work with Jared on a full time basis until he was fit enough to meet the exacting standards that the camera demanded. 

"He's got so much potential, Sam," he said, mentally listing the things about Jared that would tempt the notoriously prickly, tough minded Samantha Ferris to come and work with his new project. "Come round for a drink and meet him; you'll see what I mean." 

"Jensen, you know I don't work exclusively with anyone that isn't pulling in at least half a million a year. They can't afford me, and I don't need the bad PR." Sam was apparently not as convinced as Jensen that Jared would amount to anything. 

"Just come and see him, Sam? Please? For me?" Jensen racked his brains, trying to think of an incentive, and suddenly he got it. PR was what she was worried about, so PR she'd have. "I'm gonna be keeping a photo diary detailing his progress from down and out to superstar, and you'll feature in it. I want you, because you aren't just the best at what you do, you're hot too. But if you don't want to, I can always ask Justin. He's not quite so selective." 

That did it. There was dead silence for a moment, and Jensen smirked. He could hear Sam's hiss of disapproval at his mention of Justin Hartley, and he held the phone away from his ear as he awaited the inevitable explosion he knew would follow. Sure enough, it came, but rather than raising her voice she gave a low growl that gave Jensen shivers and made him thank his stars that he wasn't actually close enough to her that she could reach him, because he would fear for his manhood at that moment. 

"That charlatan?" Her voice sounded intimidating, but he knew that he'd won. A moment later, she confirmed it. "Okay, Ackles, you win. I'll come take a look at your boy," 

Resisting the urge to leap around, punching the air, Jensen merely murmured his gratitude and repeated his invitation to come to his home to meet Jared. "You know the equipment I have here. I'm pretty sure you'll find a way of assessing him, and you know it'll mean so much to me." 

"Yeah, yeah…" Sam seemed to have recovered from her jealous moment, and was back to being the hard-nosed cynic Jensen knew and loved. "You'd better make it worth my while; that's all I'm saying." 

"So you'll come over tomorrow and check him out?" He knew he was pushing her, but nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? He was seizing the moment right here, and nothing was going to stop him. "Sam, you're the best; you know that. I'll have my camera ready, and your name will be the one that's out there when he hits the big time." He was already paging through his iPhone for the next person to call, and had almost dismissed Sam from his thoughts. "So we'll see you tomorrow, right?" he murmured. 

"I'll be by at ten," was the reply, and Jensen grinned as he thanked her and put down the phone. So far, so good. 

He dialed the next person on his list and smiled as he heard the steady pounding of a techno-beat behind the voice that responded. "City morgue - you stab 'em; we slab 'em." 

"Hey, Mike, how's it hangin'?" Jensen's voice had a laugh in it as he heard his favorite stylist's latest response. "You collecting cadavers now?" 

"Jensen, my man!" Mike sounded ecstatic to hear from his friend. "Gotta tell you that nothing's hangin' right now. Everything I've got is drawn up tight as a drum." 

"Good to hear." Jensen dropped into his chair and put his feet on the desk. "Hey, I need your help." 

"Anything for my buddy," was the enthusiastic response. "You know I love you." Mike's voice oozed sincerity. "Name it." 

"I've got a project." Jensen grinned as he began to describe the situation he was in, and the events that had led up to it. "So what I have is what you might call a diamond in the rough. He's got incredible potential, but right now he's quite a way from achieving it. What I need is for you to take him in hand and…" 

"…Recreate him in my image?" Mike actually sounded excited by the prospect, and Jensen suppressed a laugh at the thought of how Jared might look once he'd assimilated the whole Rosenberg persona. 

"Yeah, man. He's a tabula rasa." The grin was still on Jensen's lips as he wound up their conversation. "Think of him as a totally blank canvas that you can transform into a work of art. You're the only one I can rely on to do that. What do you say?" 

"What could I possibly say? He sounds like an excellent subject for my talents. Usual rates apply, of course?" Mike's voice was crisp, but Jensen still couldn't help wondering if his chosen style guru would remember their conversation in the morning. "I'll come over to your place tomorrow afternoon, if you like." 

"Sounds good to me, man. Yeah, usual rates," said Jensen, thanking his stars that Mike wasn't doubling his fee even as he was penciling in a checkmark next to Mike's name on his blotter. "Want me to remind you in the morning?" 

"Works for me." Mike was totally unashamed at his own inability to retain information. This was a dance the two of them had done many times before, and Jensen knew that to have Mike on his team he might have to resort to strategies that somehow never made it into the papers, thank goodness. He'd do what he had to, up to and including going to fetch Mike and strong-arming him around to his home. That was just how Mike was. "See you tomorrow," murmured Jensen. "2pm. I'll email you, phone you, whatever. If you're not at home, I'll kill your fuckin' cat; you got that?" 

"Oh, come on, dude, don't be like that." Mike sounded stricken. "Mr. Mephistopheles would be upset, and so would I." 

"That's what I was banking on," said Jensen as he cut the connection. Two for two. Now there was only one more person to line up, and in some ways this one was going to be the toughest of them all to get on board. Gritting his teeth, he dialed Katie Cassidy. 

Katie had been a ballerina until a car accident had robbed her of part of her left foot. She was still a dancer, and although she had moved from appearing onstage to shaping talent that would someday become a shadow of what she herself had been, she was still a force to be reckoned with. 

Knowing that Katie would be harder to sell than either Sam or Mike, Jensen didn't dive straight into his project. "Hey, Kate, you never called me back about that photo spread I wanted to do. What the fuck?" 

"Jensen?" Katie's voice was always sexy, but right now it sounded downright pornographic, and Jensen made a mental note to invite her over to show her his etchings. He was far more interested in cock than pussy, but there was something about Katie that always pushed all his buttons. He rather liked having his buttons pushed. 

"Katie, I need you." Jensen put his soul into those four words. 

"Jensen?" Her voice was colder, as if she'd rumbled him, even though he knew that his every word, every nuance had oozed sincerity. "You only need? You don't want?" 

"Baby," he murmured, trying his hardest to sound desperate. "If I thought that what I wanted would move you, I'd have told you about it. Need trumps want every time; am I wrong?" 

"No, you fucker, you're not wrong." She sighed audibly, and Jensen held the phone a little further from his ear. She gave a little giggle, and he could imagine her flicking her hair back coyly. "So what do you need Katie for, Jennybean?" she asked him, cooing seductively. 

"I've got a new model, and he's got a problem with one of his knees." Jensen was picking his words with care. "He's got surgery scheduled for Monday, but he's going to need a whole bunch of work to get him up to standard afterward. Right now he's a complete klutz. You're the only one that can help." 

"But why should I?" She was still using her little girl voice, but there was an edge to it now. Jensen nodded. He'd been expecting something like this. 

"Well, because you love me?" he murmured. "And you love the fact that I'm gonna be doing a whole photo spread on the way you transform him from zero to hero." 

Her voice was restored to its adult delivery as she considered that. "Tempting, darling, very tempting, but I don't know…" 

"Jeez, Kitty-cat, you _have_ to help me. I've got a bet going with Steve and…" Jensen wasn't sure when his voice had changed from amused flippancy to outright begging, but there was an unmistakably schoolboy whine in the last sentence. Fortunately, Katie didn't seem to notice. 

"You mean it's a chance to strike a blow to that Carlson's ego?" she asked, and there was a tone to her voice that made Jensen hope that he never roused Katie's ire. 

"Uh… I suppose you could put it that way." He began to explain the bet to her, and the resulting, tinkling laughter had an edge to it that made his blood run cold. 

"Oh, stop, stop. I have to see this paragon of yours," she said. "If it puts sand in that asshole's Vaseline, I'll give it my best shot." 

Jensen suddenly recalled that Steve and Katie had once been an item, and breathed out a thank you to the listening gods that he'd mentioned the musician. He was well aware that it was a good idea to quit while he was ahead though, and he merely muttered a few words of gratitude. Three for three, he thought as he invited Katie to come meet her new student. There would be time enough later to tell her that she'd be working with Sam Ferris. He really didn't know how the two of them got on, but he was sure that they knew each other. Tinseltown was, after all, a small, incestuous society, and both Katie and Sam were at the very pinnacle of their professions. 

"Don't you worry, Jennybean," she cooed, returning to her little girl voice. "He'll be dancing like a pro by the time I'm done with him." 

"Come on over and meet him?" said Jensen, wincing at the much hated nickname, but not wanting to do anything that might change her mind at this late juncture. 

"I'll be there in ten," was her sweetly uttered reply. "I can't wait to get started." 

She'd hung up before he could say another word, and Jensen had no choice to do anything but go back to the living room where Jared had been working his way through the stack of games that Jensen had accumulated for the PS3. 

"This totally rocks!" Jared's beaming smile showed dimples that Jensen could slide quarters into if he were so inclined. "You wanna challenge me to Guitar Hero? I'll bet you five bucks I can beat you." 

Nodding, Jensen took his place at Jared's side on the couch and gestured for Jared to set up the console. Before long the two of them were taking it in turns to play through "Smoke on the Water," and Jensen was snorting as he realized just how much better at this his companion was. 

"You freak," he growled, watching Jared's long fingers spider over the guitar controls, skittering through the riffs on the most advanced level. "You've hustled me, haven't you?" 

Throwing back his head, Jared roared with laughter, and that's how Katie found them when she strolled through the patio doors having made her way round the side of the house to the pool. 

"Jennybean," she cooed, strolling over to fling her arms around Jensen and deliver a couple of air kisses to his stubbled cheek. "Now that I'm here, I want to see your wonderful discovery. Where is he? Is this him?" She twirled out of Jensen's grasp and turned to Jared, who was still lounging on the couch Jensen had bought that day, controller in hand. "Stand up," she said, her voice commanding, and Jared, his eyes wide, rose nervously to his feet and stood shifting from foot to foot, unsure who or what was inspecting him. 

"My, my, my," she trilled. "Aren't you the big one? You wouldn't throw him back, would you?" 

"Th… throw me back?" Jared gulped, wondering what was coming. "Throw me back where?" 

"I'm only teasing, darling." The little girl voice was back, matched with a little girl pout as Katie patted Jared's cheek. "I'm the one who's going to make you into a star, my love. Just think, in no time at all you'll be dancing." 

The word 'dancing' brought a look of total panic to Jared's eyes, but he said nothing, and Jensen nodded his approval. The boy had discretion, and that was a very good thing. 

It wasn't long before Katie had been handed a glass of wine, taken a seat on the couch beside her new victim and begun to quiz him about exactly who he was, where he'd come from and why. She was small, wiry and elegant, and Jensen had to suppress a grin at the terror on Jared's features at the prospect of associating with this tiny blonde whirlwind. "I came because I got a manager who was going to set me up with an audition," he told her, once he could get a word in edgewise. "I was recruited when I was in a play, and he…" 

"What manager was that? Did you have to do any dancing? It's always hard to judge without seeing you move, but I hear you need to get your knee fixed before you can really start working. We'll just have to concentrate on your arms for now." 

She'd leaned forward to set down her empty glass, and Jared, flinging his arms out to demonstrate that they were not only present but also in full working order, promptly clipped her around the ear. True, he was mortified by the result of his grand gesture, but it was fairly obvious that Katie was unimpressed, and it wasn't long before she was taking her leave of them, murmuring that Jensen should call her once Jared was sufficiently recovered from the surgery. 

As they watched her car take off up the driveway, Jared turned to Jensen. "Jeez, man, do I have to…?" 

"Yeah, dude, I'm afraid you do, but think of it this way; you have to suffer to be beautiful." Smirking, Jensen rose to his feet to go and find another couple of beers.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Things were moving rapidly. Jared's knee surgery was performed on schedule on the Monday, and for the next little while, his leg encased in a plaster cast, he was free from Katie's attentions. However, he was barely recovered from the anesthetic when Sam descended on him – like a plague of boils, he later told his mother on the phone – and set him to work out. Running and cycling were out of the question until his leg was healed, but that didn't stop Sam from working him until every useable limb felt like jelly, and his entire body had as much muscle tone as a wet noodle.

Throughout the entire process, Jensen took photographs and film to record what was happening. Although that was weird to Jared at first, pretty soon he no longer noticed, getting into each workout with increasing enthusiasm until he lost himself in the lift and pump of muscle, and his mind found a place where he was totally at peace. 

Jensen had taken to working out with Jared and he watched his protégé's progress with something like awe. He'd been lean and wiry to start with, but under Sam's tutelage he was starting to build serious muscle, and was beginning to look very nice indeed. Jensen was starting to think that winning his bet would be a shoo-in. He wasn't sure exactly when it was that he realized for the first time that he wanted Jared. It had grown on him slowly but surely, and by the time he'd actually noticed what he was feeling, he was in way too deep to back away.

He'd watched as Jared submitted, apparently willingly, to Sam's regime of terror, and he seemed to be thriving on it, but feeling somewhat guilty Jensen had decided that he would do what Jared was made to do as a declaration of solidarity. Now he was beginning to think that Sam was a daughter of Satan. 

The first visit from Mike was an interesting experience for all concerned – as Jared said afterwards, it was interesting in the same way as the famous Chinese curse! Mike arrived bearing a tape measure and a laptop, and proceeded to put Jared through his paces, wearing a manic expression that boded no good for anyone. He strutted around Jared, who gazed, wide eyed at the vision wearing purple crushed velvet bell bottoms and an emerald green silk caftan. As it turned out, Jensen didn’t have to go fetch him, and Mr. Mephistopheles could breathe a sigh of relief. Not so, Jared!

What seemed like hours went by, during which time Mike measured everything Jared would allow him to get his hands on, and made a determined attempt to measure everything else as well, reducing his client to nervous giggles and causing Jensen to bite his cheeks and then go outside, ostensibly to smoke, but actually to laugh until he cried. 

Mike had Jared strip down to his boxers, and stand there, clad only in his underwear and plaster cast, while he circled the poor boy, making half heard comments and prodding bits of Jared for no apparent reason. When he finally allowed Jared to resume his clothing, he clapped his hands to his eyes with a shudder, giving the impression that he had either been mortally insulted or suddenly contracted a terrible case of dysentery. Jared gazed at him, aghast, but Jensen, who knew Mike somewhat better, having worked with him before and seen his modus operandi, gave him a wink and a smile, and Jared relaxed a little. 

His relief was short lived. Mike was apparently not happy with anything about Jared. He peered at his skin and declared that he required a full beautification regimen. He ran his fingers through Jared's hair and announced that he would need a trichologist, and who knew what weird preparations besides. He allowed that the style suited Jared, but then went into great detail as to how it would look so much better if it were done by him. He declared that Jared's skin was in bad shape and recommended skin care treatments, depilatories, lotions and a masseur, who he declared would give Jared's skin a glow and make him look more appealing. 

By the time he reached Jared's clothing, Jared appeared to be on the brink of tears. Apparently his feet should never ever be thrust into flip-flops – Jared's chosen footwear. He should stop wearing the baggy, knee length camo shorts he favored and start wearing figure hugging jeans and tight T-shirts. Privately, Jensen agreed with Mike on that one, but he didn't say anything, merely watching as Mike cast his eyes up to heaven and prayed for something – anything – that would improve the poor specimen that was now cowering on the couch, thoroughly demoralized.

With Michael's coming, Jared's peace was finally and completely at an end.

Michael didn't just torment Jared himself. Oh, no! Michael had minions, and they descended on Jared in battalions, Misha, the masseur, was a sad eyed brunet with fingers of steel. He proceeded to prod, push and pummel Jared whilst regaling him with a monologue about how he'd built his house from scratch. Jared had listened in awe for the first five minutes, and then slowly drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic movement of Misha's hands on his body. 

His hairdresser was called Lauren, and she not only totally re-sculpted his hair – that was her term rather than Jared's – she insisted on shaving him too, and there was one particularly fraught moment where she and Mike hovered over him, debating the length of his sideburns. Jared almost got to his feet and ran for it. If he hadn't still been healing from the surgery he would have done it. As it was, he began to haul himself out of his chair and as one, Lauren and Mike seized an arm each and thrust him back into it without either of them deigning to notice him or pausing their argument at all. Demoralized, Jared remained, cowering for the rest of the session. 

It was when the beautician arrived that Jared was finally moved to remonstrate with Jensen, who had been close at hand throughout the entire experience - or at least for that part when he wasn’t outside having a smoke and giggle break - watching every detail of what they were doing to his protégé with a mounting combination of lust and terror. Jared took one look at the beautician and grabbed for Jensen's arm, dragging him close.

"Dude, do I have to have all this shit?" His voice was plaintive as he lay flat on his back on what he'd come to think of as the torture bench, his face plastered with some green concoction and cucumber slices over his eyes. "I'm a guy, and this bozo wants to curl my eyelashes. I ask you, is that fair?" 

"Fair?" Jensen snickered as he studied Jared with a smirk on his face. "You're gonna be the next face of America. You can't possibly do that without curly eyelashes. Isn't that so, Chad?" 

Chad Lindberg, who was a tall, skinny guy, with long, attenuated limbs, and who put Jensen in mind of a spider monkey, put one hand to his forehead dramatically and tossed his head. "We're working with blank canvas here, Jenny-baby! We have to find his look! It needs to be _organic,_ an _evolution_. I'm still trying to learn who he is, but when we achieve his look it's going to be _fabulous!_ Just trust me." 

Jensen listened, open-mouthed, to the beautician's words, and then bit his lip. "Uh… It's Jensen, thank you, and yeah, I'm sure that when you find it, it'll be pretty damned fabulous, but I kinda liked him with straight eyelashes." 

Jared, still supine and laden with goop, mumbled what sounded like an agreement, and Chad threw up his arms, horrified. "You just don't understand," he growled. "Nobody understands!" He clasped his forehead again, and smudged his goth eye makeup, his eyes bright with tears. "An artist has needs," he added. 

Feeling a dreadful urge to giggle, Jensen merely nodded gravely and backed away, choosing to start fiddling with his cameras rather than provoke any further histrionics. On the bench, Jared uttered a small, defeated sound, and Jensen grinned. 

Chad had just begun to buff Jared's fingernails, and Jensen had begun to sneak a bunch of candid shots of Jared's predicament, when there was a call from the hallway, and a short, muscular man clad in jeans that fit where they touched, and a checked shirt with the sleeves ripped out, came down the hall and into the living room. 

"I see you got company, Jen. Am I in the way?" 

"Chris!" Jensen set down his camera and moved forward to greet the newcomer. "When did you get back? How come you didn't call me to tell me you were coming?" 

"I'm just visiting for the weekend," murmured Chris, reaching to pull Jensen down into a kiss. "The album's almost complete, and I figured that the last couple of songs could wait ‘til Monday. I wanted to see you; been missing you." 

As he was talking, he was eying the cowering figure of Jared curiously, and Chad, who was now busily working his magic on Jared's toenails, was studying the newcomer with a certain amount of defiance. "Look at you," he trilled. "You have split ends. We need to do something about those, or they'll ruin your whole look." 

Taking a step back, Chris looked at Jensen. "What the fuck…?" he asked. "Is this some weird commercial you're shooting? And who's the green yeti? Anyone I should know?" 

"Don't panic." Jensen was finding it really hard to keep a straight face. "Underneath all that frosting lies a real boy." 

Of course, Chris was fascinated, and he was soon filled in as to who Jared was, and why he was there in Jensen's living room, currently being made new. 

"Trust Steve," smirked Chris. "I'm gonna need to have words with that boy, I can tell." 

Whatever Jensen had been going to say was interrupted by Chad, who was suddenly between them, arms waving in a theatrical manner. "Now please," he said, his voice achieving an intensity that made every word somehow terribly important. "We must have silence while I work. I absolutely can't grok my canvas in fullness without silence." 

Without further ado, Chad turned back to Jared, assuming that he would be granted his demanded silence. Shoulders shaking, Jensen elbowed Chris and picked up his camera. 

Busy with cotton wool and cleanser, Chad ignored them loftily as he began to work on Jared, scooping away the preparation he'd ladled onto Jared earlier and whisking away the cucumber segments to reveal the man beneath. "My dear, you're positively _glowing,_ he trilled. "I believe we are going to achieve your true potential. It will merely take a little vision. Mr. Michael must come at once; I need to consult with him." 

He produced his cell phone with a flourish, and Jensen decided that it was the perfect moment to take Chris by the hand and get out of there before there were two of them emoting all over the place. Abandoning Jared to Chad and Mike’s tender mercies, he grabbed Chris and fled.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Later, sated and drowsy from their lovemaking, Jensen tried his best to explain what he was trying to do with Jared. Chris just didn't seem to get it, and said so.

"Dude, if you want to play lady bountiful to someone, why not do what the rest of us do and adopt a starving Somalian or something." Chris was lounging against Jensen's teak headboard, proudly naked, deep chest sheened with sweat. He turned to Jensen, a sneer on his handsome face. "Nobody's ever gonna mistake you for Angelina Jolie, or Madonna or whoever. You don't have the tits, even if your name is Jenny." 

"Oh, fuck you, Kane." Jensen shoved himself up to sit and glare at his lover. "Did you come all the way from Nashville for the weekend just to pick a fight? If you did, then you'd better go back again, because I'm not in the mood." 

"Calm down, Jen." Chris reached to trace the knobs on Jensen's spine, smirking a little when Jensen turned back to him, apparently mollified by the gentle touch. "You an' me are gonna get together with my man Steve tonight and make some beautiful music, aren't we? He's at Hotel Café, and we're gonna be on stage with him, or I won't be responsible for his pain." He laughed softly. "Come on, Jen. You can't let a little thing like the jolly green giant in there come between you and me, now can you?" 

He pulled Jensen back, kissing along his jaw to his ear and nibbling there as he murmured, "Can you? Can you?" in a whiny way. 

Laughing, Jensen shoved him off, swearing at him, but he was obviously placated, and it wasn't long before Chris had pulled him back down into a tangle of arms and legs, and for a while nothing more was said about the matter.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

"Why do we have to take him with us?" Chris was whining as he dressed himself again, pulling on his battered jeans and ripped shirt, and fishing under the bed for one of his socks before sitting on the edge to put his boots.

"Don't be pissy. He's my guest, and he doesn't know anyone in town yet. Besides, I want Steve to get a look at him and start to worry." Jensen was already dressed in figure hugging black jeans, and was rooting through his closet for a shirt. Finally settling on a dark green button down, he turned back to his lover. "Just be nice to him. He's had a rough deal, and he's only just learning the ropes." 

Scowling, Chris made it plain that he wasn't happy about the fact that Jared would be accompanying them, but he knew Jensen, and that once he'd decided on a course of action there would be no dislodging him from it without dynamite. 

Muttering, he stomped out and through to the living room. Mercifully, Chad, Michael and his team had all departed, and there was no trace of either Jared or any of the paraphernalia that had been used earlier to torment the hapless subject of Jensen's bet. He threw himself down on the couch and turned to grin at Jensen over his shoulder. "Hey, since when did you start buying furniture? That kid's a bad influence on you, I swear." 

Shrugging, Jensen followed him in, looking around to make sure that the makeover team had departed. "Just seemed like an idea, since there were people coming in from time to time. Where's Jared?" 

"He ain't here. That means we don't have to drag him along with us tonight, right?" Kane turned a pleading blue-eyed gaze on his lover, trying to will Jensen into agreeing. Jensen pursed his lips in the mutinous way that told Chris no deal. 

"He'll be in his room, probably gibbering in a corner after having those two fruitcakes enthusing all over him." He grinned as a thought occurred. "Hey, maybe Chad managed to intuit his special look for him. I think we should be told!" 

To Chris's disgust, Jensen turned and went back down towards the bedrooms to tap on Jared's door. "Hey, Jay, come on out, it's all clear; they've gone," he called. 

It took a moment for the door to open and a cautious hazel eye to peer through the crack. "You sure?" Jared sounded plaintive. 

"Yeah, dude, cross my heart, they've all gone." Jensen made the gesture as he spoke, and Jared relaxed a little, allowing the door to open a fraction more. "Hey, put your pretties on; we're gonna go to a club tonight and party with Steve." 

"Okay. I guess I can wait ‘til tomorrow for therapy, yeah?" The door closed again, and a couple of minutes later Jared appeared. 

It was the first time Chris had actually seen him, and as he turned to look at the man who was starting to be such a thorn in his side, Jensen's eyes flicked between the two of them, and his heart sank. There was undoubtedly going to be trouble, and he would be smack dab in the middle of it. 

Jared was still limping, but he was standing tall despite the stick he relied on. His skin, fresh from whatever concoction Chad had used on it, glowed, and his hair was sleek and shiny, artfully tousled. He wore jeans that clung to his powerful thighs, a T-shirt that slid over the defined muscles of his chest, and he was carrying the butter-soft leather jacket that Jensen had insisted he buy during their initial shopping spree. He looked incredible. Jensen felt something low in his belly turn warm and loose, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Chris frown. 

Heading over to clap Jared on the shoulder and bring him in to be introduced to Chris, Jensen tromped down firmly on the lust that was seething through his veins and prepared himself for the battle he knew would be coming.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

The ride over to the Hotel Café was mildly annoying. Chris kept asking Jared pointed questions designed to show him up and make him uncomfortable. Jared didn't rise to the bait, much to Jensen's relief, merely smiling wide and white and murmuring non-committal answers that just served to frustrate Chris.

They were almost at the venue when Chris suddenly turned to Jared, who was lounging in the back seat, idly munching gummi worms, and said, "So, Jared, what's it really like being on the street? Did you sell your ass for change? How much were you asking? I bet you built up quite the clientele." 

Jared's eyes gleamed maliciously. "Yeah, Chris. Sorry I couldn't fit you in, but the guy on the next corner told me about your tiny little dick, so I had to pass." 

From the driver's seat, Jensen choked, and Chris himself was stunned to silence for a moment. Fortunately, they arrived at the club before Chris could recover and resume tormenting Jared, and Jensen put his vehicle into park with an inward sigh of relief. He'd fully intended to talk to Chris about his attitude towards Jared, but he was starting to think that the big Texan didn't need his intervention. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on things and see how they went. 

As they walked around to the front of the venue, they found Steve, standing outside sucking on a cigarette and chatting with David Olivas. When the small party walked up, Chris greeted Steve as though they hadn't met for years. As the two of them went off together, talking playlists and arrangements, Jensen shrugged and bumped Jared's shoulder. "Sorry he was such a bitch," he murmured. "I'll try to get him to tone it down a little. He's good people really, I promise you." 

"Don't you worry none," murmured Jared, his smile a white flash in the tanned face. "Sticks and stones, man. That's all it is. Ain't any way talk's gonna do me harm." 

Nodding, Jensen led his way into the club. "C'mon then, and I'll buy you a drink," he said, picking his way around the tables towards the bar. 

The club was not yet full, and after greeting a couple of friends, Jensen led his way over to the table Steve had staked out on arrival and the two of them found seats and flopped down. Jared was still using a stick to help take the weight away from his knee, and he propped it up against the wall behind him. 

It was at least a quarter of an hour before Chris and Steve joined them, and Steve seemed to have settled Chris, at least for the time being, because he ignored Jared and let him sip his beer and enjoy his surroundings in peace. 

The opening act was a young singer doing his debut performance at the Hotel Café, and he was almost done with his set when Jared rose to find the restrooms. Reaching for his stick, he overbalanced and fell, catching himself on the edge of the table and knocking Chris's beer over onto him, so that his front was soaked with Corona. 

"Jesus Christ, you clumsy ass! Why don't you do us all a favor and fuck off back to your alley?" Chris's voice was strident, and Jensen, who had been chatting to a girl who'd come over in the hopes of finding her career boosted, turned to glare at Chris. 

"Try for a little charity, Kane," he snapped. "The man's recovering from surgery; he didn't mean to spill your drink." 

"It ain't me that needs to try for charity, Jen. This asshole has that angle all sewn up. He's gettin' all the charity one man can stand." Chris's face was ugly with spite, and Jensen rose to his feet. 

"If you can't behave like a civilized man, then you an' me are gonna fall out." He stood surveying Chris, who lounged in his seat, dark stain down his front where the drink had been spilled. 

"Well, if you’d rather have this waste of skin than me, _Jenny,_ I guess you don't have the good taste I thought you did." Chris rose to his feet. "C'mon, Steve. Let's leave them to it. The very sight of him disgusts me." 

Frowning, Steve shook his head. "Sorry, Kane. I kinda like him, myself. If you're feeling pissy, feel free to go do something else, but I'm not going anywhere. Jared's all right." 

Rigid with fury, Christian Kane rose to his feet, turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving the rest of the table's occupants to gape after him. Jared, who had been to relieve himself and so missed most of the altercation, returned, looking somewhat confused. "Jensen?" he murmured. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean…" 

"S'okay, Jay." Jensen reached to put a gentle hand on Jared's arm as he interrupted his companion's apology. "He was gunning for you right from the moment he came in this afternoon. I guess I was kind of stupid to think he'd come round." Shrugging, he turned back to his drink, raising his bottle in a toast. "Guess I'm single again," he said. "Here's to being footloose and fancy free." 

"Well, Ackles," Steve's voice cut through the conversation. "Looks like you and me up on stage without Kane, so grab a guitar and get ready to rock." 

Nodding, Jensen rose to his feet and reached for the instrument that Steve was passing over to him. Bending over it, he began to tune it, while Jared looked on as if fascinated. Beaming round at the company, Jared had the last word. "I'm guessing that nobody's gonna miss Kane," he said, white teeth flashing. "I just have this feeling."

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

A week later, Jared had the cast removed from his leg, and physical therapy became the topic of the hour. Hot on the heels of the physical therapist came Katie, itching to mold her new protégé into a thing of grace and beauty.

Jensen had to admit that Jared was starting to look the part. He was beautifully built. Sam was honest as she reported to Jensen that the kid knew as well as she did how to make himself look good. Writing her a check, Jensen asked her to monitor Jared rather than be a full time trainer, and she agreed. "There's just one thing," she said. "That boy sure is clumsy. He's an accident waiting to happen. If he isn't falling over the incline bench, he's tripping on his own shoelaces." 

And so Katie arrived, all blonde hair and attitude. 

At first, it seemed as though Jared was a lost cause. Jensen was rather scared to set Katie onto him. She was not known for her kindness and sweet disposition, but it seemed that he'd misjudged the pair of them, because, unlikely as it seemed, the two of them actually hit it off, and an astonished Jensen watched as Jared slowly began to improve. Maybe he would never be a Patrick Swayze or a Channing Tatum, but his coordination did begin to get better, and he actually seemed to be enjoying his sessions with the tiny, snarky blonde. 

Watching the two of them together as Katie put Jared through the steps of a jive, Jensen found himself almost salivating at the sight of the broad, muscled shoulders and tight butt while the two of them kicked and twirled around the living room floor, shrieking with laughter and catcalling at each other. He finally had to leave, heading for his bathroom and a handful of lube. 

Chris had left things for a week before calling Jensen to try and patch things up, and although Jensen accepted his apology, he refused to take him back as a lover, and the main reason for that was the fact that he really, really wanted Jared. He found himself worrying that even if he actually did make a play for him, he wouldn't stand a chance with Jared, because he was straight, or maybe because he'd left it too long. He bit his lip and hung back, for once terrified to declare himself, because a refusal would hurt too much. 

Following their session, Jared and Katie had sunk down onto the couch and when Jensen finally succeeded in taming his unruly dick, he found the two of them playing Grand Theft Auto and swearing at each other with a vocabulary that impressed even him. 

"Jay," he said, almost afraid to interrupt the two of them. Both Jared and Katie looked up at him, eyes alight with laughter. "I want to do a full photo session tomorrow." He knew he sounded terse, but the way Jared looked, tousled, glowing from exercise and completely relaxed, seemed somehow intimidating. "Would you mind letting me know when you've got a couple of hours in a row?" 

"Sure, Jen," nodded Jared, and if his face had lost a little of its humor, Jensen didn't notice. He was looking away, because he was fighting his dreadful tendency to get a hard on every time he met Jared's eyes. "First thing is probably gonna be best, because Chad wants to tint my eyelashes at eleven, and then I've got the Paso Doble with Katie, and Sam wants to come check out my stance when I'm doing squats. She thinks I'm cutting corners, because I'm doing 300lbs. She said it isn't possible, but it is, I promise you. I wouldn't cheat, I swear." 

"Sounds like 8:30's gonna be the best time to get you then," nodded Jensen, trying to maintain a professional attitude when all he wanted to do was drop to his knees and lick along the exposed strip of skin over Jared's belly where his sweats were riding low. 

"Works for me," said Jared, smiling his easy smile. "What kind of photos are you gonna go for? What do you want me to bring?" 

"Nothing, man." Jensen was smirking now. He may be too chicken to try and bed Jared, but when he was behind the camera he was God, and he was going for gold. "You're gonna be naked. I think it's time." 

Katie burst into spontaneous applause at that, clapping and whooping and generally shouting obscenities, but Jensen felt almost as though he'd recaptured the initiative as he met Jared's eyes and saw that they were almost all pupil. Something about posing naked was turning Jared on, he thought. A moment later that thought was put in perspective, because Jensen really didn't care how turned on Jared might be; he absolutely knew that the young man couldn't possibly be as turned on as he was.

He drew a deep breath, looking away from Katie, because it was evident from the gleam he could see in her eye that she'd noticed his arousal. "I'll do some contact sheets for you too, because it's time we got you a manager, and you're going to need all this stuff."

"A manager?" Jared looked a little flushed, bright-eyed at the thought of that. "I was supposed to meet Mr. Kripke, from Kripke Enterprises, the day I got mugged. I never got there, so I suppose he gave up on me and assumed that I got cold feet." He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess that's all in the past now. Can't you be my manager?" He fixed Jensen with a hopeful look. "You'd be awesome as my manager." 

"I'm your publicist," said Jensen, feeling unaccountably warmed by Jared's plea. "You need a theatrical agent. They don't send scripts to me, dude. You need the right agent for that." 

""Well, okay. As long as you're gonna stick by me and not toss me to the wolves..." Jared gave Jensen a look under his lashes that, had he not been convinced his protégé was straight, would have been grounds for pushing him up against a wall and giving him the benefit of his sexual prowess. As it was, he merely shivered, thinking that now that Jared had begun to relax he was turning out to be a consummate flirt. 

"Something tells me you'd handle the wolves, no problem," said Jensen, smirking as he turned to leave. 

"If he didn't, he's got me," called Katie. "I'll be his manager for him. I don't mind." 

As Jensen headed to his room, all he could think of were sloe eyes, dark and knowing, and a soulful look that hit him hard and made his cock twitch in his pants despite the fact that he'd already jerked off twice that day. 

_No, you don't! No touching the science project,_ he told himself as he prepared to go to bed before midnight for once in his life. Idly, he wondered if Jared was screwing Katie, and if he was, how he was enjoying it. He'd always thought that Katie might actually turn out to be a lesbian although he knew of several romances she’d had. It did seem as if she'd bonded with Jared, and if that was the case there was no way Jensen would ever get a look in with him, because if he knew the blonde at all, then he knew that she gave nothing away, ever. 

Depressed at the way things were going, Jensen fell asleep in a very melancholy mood.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

It was raining when Jensen woke up the following morning. The sky was dull and had an orange cast to it that didn't bode well for the day. He rolled out of bed with a groan, having been plagued by indeterminate nightmares that had made his sleep restless. He couldn't stop thinking about Jared. He was determined that he would spend the morning building up a portfolio for him, and even though he'd vowed to keep his hands off the young Texan, he could feel the stirrings of lust as he contemplated the session.

He'd slept poorly, and had spent the night restless, wanting something that he knew was just not in the cards for him. It was still early, and Jared was still, presumably, sleeping the sleep of the just. Jensen wondered briefly if Katie had gone home or if she was still with Jared. He didn't begrudge the kid a sex life, of course, but the pangs of jealousy at the thought of the two of them together had nothing to do with him wanting Katie in his bed. 

Shaking his head, he went to peer out at the driveway, feeling a little better when he saw that Katie's absurd E-type Jaguar was no longer parked in his driveway. He checked his watch, but it was not even seven yet. Feeling a little at a loss, he went to make himself breakfast. 

He was on his third coffee and almost ready to start eating actual food, when there was a sound behind him, and Jared stood there in the doorway, tousled and beaming and utterly delectable. Jensen felt the unmistakable jolt to his libido as he was bade a cheery good morning. 

He stammered some kind of reply and turned to reach for the frying pan while he settled his emotions down. He'd only known Jared for a short while, and the kid was there on a bet, but Jensen couldn't deny the attraction he was starting to feel for the young man. He cleared his throat. 

"I was making breakfast. You hungry?" he asked, reaching for the bacon. 

"Dude, I'm always hungry." Jared went to the coffee pot and set to brewing a fresh pot since Jensen had just about finished the entire first one. "What are you making? Want me to do pancakes? Got any hash browns? I can do toast if you like." 

Grinning, Jensen finished putting the bacon in the pan and turned to reach for the eggs. "You sure you wouldn't like me to bring in a cow? Maybe a couple of pigs?"

"Sure thing," smirked Jared. "You know the way to a Texas boy's heart." He set the coffee on to brew and rummaged in the freezer for bread. "Dude, you need carbs to start your day. All this protein is fine, but you gotta have carbs for that initial energy release." 

"Sam tell you that?" Jensen was cracking eggs into a bowl, and found himself smacking one against the side rather harder than he needed, causing bits of shell to land in the basin. 

"No." Jared sounded a little surprised at Jensen's sudden apparent hostility. "Coach Wilson used to drill that into us on match days. "Protein for the long haul and carbs for the speedy energy release." He frowned. "Why? Is Sam telling me wrong or something?" 

"No, no." Biting his lip, Jensen sighed, happy that he had his back to Jared just then. "Sam's doing fine; you're looking pretty good and the knee seems to be getting stronger too. I was just surprised to hear you come out with the breakfast mantra. My old coach used to say that, word for word." 

Grinning amiably, Jared moved to intercept the toast that had just popped out of the toaster. "So where's the grease?" he asked Jensen, casting around for butter to spread on it. 

"You want to clog your arteries with butter?" Jensen's voice held a note of incredulity. 

"Damn straight I do," was the sincere reply. "I need calories, dude. Can't live on carbs alone. Besides, it tastes better." Jared grunted in satisfaction as Jensen indicated the butter. He spread a thick layer onto one of the slices of toast and began to eat it. 

"Hey, you!" Jensen watched as Jared polished off one slice and started on the next. "You're gonna ruin your appetite." 

"Never happen." The grin on Jared's face was blinding. "My mom used to reckon I had a portable hole in my stomach that led to an alternative universe. It's the only explanation for my appetite." 

"Well, you'd just better not get fat ‘til after I win my bet is all." Jensen flipped the bacon over and went to take the scrambled eggs out of the microwave. Giving them a final stir, he reached for plates, smirking as Jared deposited a piece of buttered toast onto each. 

"No chance," Jared assured him, and reached for the coffee, filling two mugs. 

After breakfast, Jensen tidied the kitchen and tried to stop himself from hyperventilating. He was going to be doing a photo-shoot with a model, and that was something he'd done so many times before that he felt like an idiot for getting so worked up about the impending session. Sure, Jared was hot, and he could admit that he had perhaps developed a teeny crush on the man, but still, the shoot was nothing that he hadn't done before. 

Giving himself a mental shake, he made his way through to the living room where Jared was now lounging and beckoned. "Time to go get your face immortalized in celluloid, dude. Let's go." 

Looking up, Jared beamed at him and rose to his feet. "Sure," he murmured. "You're gonna have to coach me through this, because I haven't done it before, but I'm all yours." 

Jensen led the way through to his studio, doing his best to quash the anticipation that was putting butterflies in his stomach. "I thought we'd start with just a few head shots and then get you to do some full body posing. Take a seat." He indicated the place where Jared was to sit and turned to start pointing arc lights in the places he wanted them. "Mike'll be here shortly to start styling you, but I wanted some candid shots of you just as you are. They'll be a great baseline for us to refer to later in the year." 

As he was speaking, Jensen reached for his camera and deftly adjusted it, screwing on a lens that he'd decided would work best. Raising it to his eye, he began to snap photos, moving around Jared and calling out instructions as he went. 

Jared had a very mobile face, and to Jensen's delight he took to the session as if born to it, in turn pouting, grinning or smoldering to Jensen's order. "Good, that's very good; in fact that's great. Jay, you're an awesome model." 

What would have been Jared's reply was lost as the door to the studio swung open and a familiar voice trilled, "Where's my baby boy? Jensen, you naughty, naughty man, you've been taking his photo while he's all unkempt, and he doesn't have his face on. It's too bad of you! I'm going to have to talk to you severely." 

"Hi, Mike," said Jensen, setting aside the camera. "You going to make him look halfway decent for me?" 

"Hey!" Jared looked indignant, and Jensen's lips twitched. "I'm already halfway decent. Mike's going to make me the other half, aren't you, Michael?" 

Mike, a vision in a pink suede shirt and tight denim jeans, drew himself up to his full height, his eyes flashing. "Decent?" He packed a world of scorn into that word. "There's no such concept as 'decent' Jared; I'm going to make you superb!" 

Taking Jared away, Mike left Jensen to fiddle with his equipment and stew. And stew he did, imagining things that he knew he couldn't have as he flipped slowly through the photographs he'd already taken. By the time he heard the two men returning, he was pretty much ready to call off the session and go sit in a corner and pout. Sighing, he turned to watch as they approached, and he felt tingling heat flood him as the object of his desire approached him.

Mike had done things to Jared's hair, and now instead of being an unkempt bush it was artfully tousled and wholly sexy. He'd applied a little make up to his protégé's face as well, and although it wasn't immediately visible, the effects were. Jared glowed in the warmth of Jensen's lighting, eyes glittering, foxy clever from beneath thickly fringed, lazy eyelids. He smiled, and Jensen swallowed, sure that his longing was written all over his face. God help him, he was hooked.

Taking over from Mike with a nod of thanks, he turned to Jared and swallowed again, hard. "You ready?" he asked, almost wishing that Jared would say no and back out. He was no longer even sure he wanted to win this bet if it meant that he couldn't at least try to win Jared. 

"Gung ho, dude." Jared's smile was sharp, his eyes veiled. His hands slid to the shoulders of the wrap he was wearing, and he allowed it to slide to the floor with a sudden, sinuous twist of his torso. The silky garment hissed down to pool around Jared's ankles revealing his naked body to both Jensen and Mike. 

Mike gasped a little, clapped his hand to his eyes and sang out, "My God! I'm blind! Mr. Ackles, sir, are you sure you can't give him to me and find another science project?" 

Both men turned on Michael, eyes staring holes into him. Jared said nothing, merely flipping him off, but Jensen put his feelings into words in no uncertain way. "Fuck off, Mike! Go find your own science project." 

Michael smirked and sauntered over to take a seat in the corner. "Wouldn't miss this for the world, Jen. Besides, you might need me later. Wouldn't want him to get all limp, would you?" 

"Will you shut the fuck up!" Jared was blushing fiercely now, still standing amid the pool of silken fabric he'd let fall. Turning to frown at Mike, he gave Jensen an opportunity to really study him. The man was stunning. Strong brown legs, longer than any man had a right to, rose to merge with a behind that was – as far as Jensen could see – utterly perfect in its tight roundness. Slim hips flared to broad shoulders and arms that bulged with muscle. Jensen felt as though he might drool if he kept on looking, but he couldn't stop. Jared's cock was half hard, swinging heavily at his groin, the head rosy and glistening. 

"Okay." Jensen's voice was high and squeaky, and he had to clear his throat and try again. "Okay," he repeated, sounding a little closer to his regular octave. "Let's pose you, dude." Stepping forward with the butterflies dancing the cha-cha in his belly, he led Jared over to the dais where he'd focused the lights. "I think to start with, I want you lounging on one elbow. I'm gonna have you raise your knee like so." As he spoke he was deftly positioning Jared's leg so that it concealed his model's genitals. "That way we won't have to sell the photos to some porno mag. 

He picked up a paintbrush that he'd placed to one side and dipped it into a small dish of oil and drew it down over Jared's arm and shoulder. "This'll bring out the highlights," he said, setting it down and returning to his camera. 

Once behind the lens, he could concentrate again, and he snapped photo after photo. Jared was a good model and a quick study, and the session went swiftly. By the time they were done, Jensen had taken several hundred photographs. 

Later, downloading the results of the shoot into Photoshop, it became apparent that the man he'd pulled out of the back alley in downtown Hollywood was a photogenic marvel. Picture after picture caught Jensen's breath and made him sweat, and he knew for certain that he had discovered a gem. 

Leaping out of his chair, he ran through the house looking for Jared. He finally ran the young man to earth in the studio down in the basement. Katie had arrived, and the two of them were huddled together, giggling about something, and fell silent as Jensen came charging down the stairs. 

Looking up with his usual beaming smile, Jared greeted Jensen with a happy, 'hi!' He'd dressed himself in a plain grey T-shirt and a pair of jeans that molded themselves perfectly to his tight butt and powerful thighs. As Jensen gazed at him, his mouth went dry, and his belly gave a tingling flip. 

"You… you want to see your photos? Dude, come look." Jensen only hoped that he sounded sensible, because his brain had just about whited out. As Katie snuggled up against Jared's chest and murmured something about wanting to see the photos too, Jensen felt an urgent desire to punch her for even touching Jared. Jared ought to be his. He knew that as strongly as he knew that the kid he’d found in the alley that night was going to win him his bet. Knowing that didn’t make him feel any better.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Jensen had arranged for an acting coach to come and put Jared through his paces. The kid was coming on really well in terms of his fitness, and he was even managing to appear graceful under the ever present Katie's tutelage, but he remained so shy and withdrawn that Jensen wasn't sure if he could overcome that and make a good actor. The only times Jensen had seen Jared become talkative and animated were when he was in Katie's company. There had been only one exception that he could recall. That had been when Chris had been taunting him, and Jared had given as good as he got; sadly nothing like that had happened since.

So now Jensen had decided that it was time for Jared to show his stuff. He had called another friend of his – a skilled actor who did some coaching on the side and set up a session for Jared to go through his paces, pending an evaluation of need and ability. Now, as they waited for the arrival of Jensen's choice of coach, it was evident that Jared was nervous. He was pacing, long legs covering the same track on the living room floor. Jensen was beginning to twitch as his lanky companion started on his twentieth pass. "Dude, park somewhere, will you? You're wearing out the hardwood." 

Jared shot a hurt look in his direction. He was sweating, stress radiating from him, and Jensen suddenly felt a pang of guilt, because the look in Jared's eyes engendered the kind of feeling in him that he'd have felt if he'd just kicked a puppy. 

He was saved from any further faux pas by the sound of the doorbell. Leaping up, he went to answer the door. 

"Jeff!" Jeff Morgan, the man at the door, was dark haired and rugged, with a sturdy frame and a smile that stood out, gleaming amidst the man's bewhiskered cheeks, and made him look piratical. 

"Hey there." Jeff engulfed Jensen in a hug before pushing him back and holding him by the shoulders. "How're ya doin', man? 

"Doin' good, you old bastard!" Jensen slung an arm around Jeff's neck and led him into the room where Jared was waiting. He half expected that Jared would have turned tail and fled to his room, but he was still there, peering out through his hair like a startled faun. Jensen's lips twitched as he stepped forward to introduce the two of them. 

Jeff's smile was understanding – the kind of smile that one could imagine calming a skittish animal. He held out his hand to Jared, and after a moment he was rewarded as Jared stepped forward and took it. 

"You look pretty damned terrified," murmured Jeff. 

"You could say that." Jared favored Jeff with a brief, flickering flash of white teeth. "I feel like a bug under a microscope." 

"You’re a damned big bug, man." Jeff laughed and stepped in close. "God, you're tall, aren't you? What did your mama feed you?" 

"Gummi worms," said Jared and Jensen at the same time. The resulting giggles seemed to break the ice a little, and Jensen was able to tear himself away from the encounter to go and find beers for the three of them. By the time he returned, Jared and Jeff seemed to have achieved some kind of meeting of minds, and Jensen handed each of them a cold beer and then beat a hasty retreat, quelling ruthlessly the urge to pace the way Jared had been doing earlier. 

He became engrossed in a cooking show, and then another. By the time he was hungry enough to mount a foray outside of his room, Jeff had apparently not only allayed Jared's fears, but the two of them were laughing about something Jensen couldn't quite work out. He made for the kitchen and started to prepare the ingredients for an Indian butter chicken dish, losing himself in the preparation of the spices and the building of the recipe. 

He was never sure how long it was before he was invaded – both Jeff and Jared had received the siren call that the scent of something tasty had sent out. 

"What're you making, Jensen?" It was Jeff that asked the question, but a swift glance at Jared proved to Jensen that he was almost drooling. The timer for the rice went off just as he was about to answer, and, instead, he stuffed his prepared naan in the oven and began to set out plates. 

"How did you do?" he asked Jared. "Did you have fun?" 

Jared didn't answer; he merely blushed. Jeff, however was made of sterner stuff. Turning to Jensen, he gave him a smile and a nod. "He's pretty good, Jen. I've given him a script to learn. He needs to go talk to Eric tomorrow, because Eric is putting forward recommendations for the part I have in mind. Jay here would knock it out of the park." 

"You think Eric would represent him?" Jensen wasn't quite sure why the answer to that question was so important to him, but somehow it seemed to have become more important than anything else he'd done with Jared so far. 

"If he doesn't, I'll sign him up and start my own stable, but Eric's got better contacts than I do, so you'd do best to advise him to start there." Jeff was smiling as he spoke, and Jared, who seemed to have slumped back into his shell 'til now, crept closer. 

"Was it okay?" He looked nervous, and Jeff turned to put an arm around his shoulders, drawing him smoothly into the conversation. 

"You and I are gonna go see Eric Kripke tomorrow and get you signed up with representation," said Jeff. "And then I'm going to take you over to Universal for an audition, because there's a part that could've been written for you." 

If Jared had looked nervous before, he looked terrified now. Jeff merely laughed and ruffled his hair. "I'll pick you up at 8:30. That'll give me time to get you signed up before we go over for the audition." 

Straining the rice he'd steamed into a dish, Jensen set three plates out and put the pot containing the butter chicken onto the counter. "Help yourself, guys," he murmured and stood back. 

Little was said as they ate, but once the plates were empty, Jeff turned to Jared. "So I'll come by first thing, and we'll go make you famous, okay?"

Jared, nibbling on the last of his naan, gulped and then nodded, edging back towards the door. Jensen shot him a worried look, and Jared gave him a feeble smile. "I… uh… have to go think about things," he said softly. "This is a lot to take in." 

"I'll see you tomorrow." Jeff's deep voice rumbled after him, and it wasn't a question. Jared turned and nodded, unsmiling. 

"Yeah. Eight thirty, right?" 

And as Jensen saw Jeff to the front door, all he could think of was that Jared was going to be in a movie.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Jared went off with Jeff the following morning, leaving Jensen to pace and fret and then to go and put together a photo layout using some of the pictures he'd taken the previous day. Faxing it off to Cosmo, he sat back in his chair and checked the time. It was already after two, and he decided to head to the kitchen and find himself some lunch. He was just sitting down with a sandwich and a bottle of beer when he heard the rumble of Jeff's SUV.

He ran rather than walked to the front door, pulling it open just as Jared was reaching for it, and successfully toppling the kid forward into his arms. There was a moment when it seemed that the two of them would crash to the ground. Jeff was laughing as he stepped forward and pulled Jared back to stand upright again. 

"So tell me!" Jensen was dying to hear what had happened. Jared was grinning, but then that didn't really mean anything. Jared spent a lot of his time with his face stretched in a grin. 

"Tell you what?" Jeff was still laughing. "Tell you that your boy knocked it out of the park? Surely you knew he would." He hitched his hip onto the arm of the couch and smirked at Jared, who had collapsed onto it with his face set in a grin. "He's signed with Kripke Enterprises, and he's been over to Universal and done a screen test for a part in "Thieves Like Us." Tomorrow he'll try out for "Shindig," at the Paramount lot, and Eric has a whole scheme he'd put together when he was expecting Jared the first time. "He's going to be solid gold." 

Jared had slumped over sideways, and now appeared to be fast asleep against the couch cushions, and Jeff surveyed him with apparent affection. "He told me he didn't sleep a wink last night. You might want to give him an hour or so to nap." 

Nodding, Jensen took Jeff's arm and led him down to his studio to see the photo spread he'd put together for Cosmo. "I've started with the publicity. I think I need to talk to Eric about how to progress." 

Admiring the photographs, Jeff nodded. "The boy's seriously talented," he said. "But he's also very young and a little naïve. "Take care of him, or he's going to be in trouble." 

"Oh, don't worry. I'll take good care of him. He's…" Jensen looked away as he was speaking. "He's getting to be very important to me.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

It was over a week later when Jared heard from Universal that he'd landed his first movie. Kripke had called him during breakfast, and Jared, who had been happily munching his way through a gigantic plate of steak and eggs, had promptly been sick into Jensen's sink.

Jensen had been by turns elated and appalled, but he'd rallied round, bathing Jared's face, rubbing his back and telling him just how amazing he was going to be. Jared had merely stared at him, eyes black with panic, and Jensen had been forced to battle his own desire to pull him into his arms and kiss him senseless. 

"You're gonna be a star," is all he said when he finally got his emotions under control. "Can I have your autograph?" 

The ploy had worked. Jared had given a little, hiccuping laugh, and when the courier had knocked on their door bearing the paperwork a half hour later, he'd signed without even checking what he would earn for doing the movie.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Armed with his camera, Jensen went with Jared to the first day's shooting of "Thieves Like Us". It was a typical SoCal day, the sun threatening in the hazy sky and the heat pouring off the pavement despite the early hour. They were shooting at a small diner on North Kings Road in West Hollywood, and Jared was as jittery as Jensen had ever seen him.

"Simmer down, dude." Jensen was at a loss about what to do to settle his companion's nerves. Jared was practically vibrating with nerves, and the photographer was convinced that he would shake himself to pieces if he didn't calm down. There was sweat standing out on his forehead, staining the back of his shirt, and Jensen just wanted to put his arms around him and soothe him. He could look, but he didn't dare touch, because he was still convinced that Jared was straight, and because it was pretty obvious to him that his protégé was falling for Katie. 

He put a hand on Jared's shoulder, feeling the muscle jump beneath his touch. Green-hazel eyes were suddenly trained on him, and he felt his belly tighten and heat spread beneath the panicked gaze. Dry mouthed, Jensen swallowed and began to talk him down. 

"Jeff says that you're a terrific actor, man." He smiled, feeling as though his face might crack. "I can't wait to see that." 

"What if I fuck up?" Jared's face was pink, his eyes bright with moisture. "All the time and money you've put into me. What if I can't do it…?" His voice broke, and Jensen did reach out then, pulling him close and holding him as tightly as he could, savoring the feel of the firm body beneath his hands while Jared trembled and sniffed. 

"Hush, man, it's okay." He rubbed Jared's shoulder, long, sweeping strokes that tingled over his palm, and pressed a kiss to his hair, hoping that it wouldn't be noticed by the young man in his panic. "You won't fuck up. You haven't blown it yet, and Jeff says you're terrific. Why do you think it's even possible that you might?" 

Jared didn't answer, but after a few moments he did calm down again, and when he straightened up out of Jensen's embrace he seemed much more composed. Jensen let him go, feeling the loss of his touch like a blow, an ache that shot through him and made him shiver in turn. 

Just as Jared flushed red and turned to avoid his eyes, embarrassed to have caused the scene, the driver pulled in behind a line of trailers and parked, announcing to the two of them that they had arrived on set. 

There was no further time then for Jensen to talk, and Jared was soon whisked away to make up, while Jensen busied himself with his photographic equipment, prepared to record every step of Jared's debut in the movies. 

It was almost nine by the time the first scene was blocked and ready to film. Jared and the star of the movie, a sneering blond called Chad Murray, were supposed to jimmy the lock of the café and creep in stealthily. The café's owner was supposed to come out and catch them red handed, and Jared was to shoot her with a dart gun packed with tranquilizer darts, following which there would be a few lines of dialogue. Everything went well, and Jared nailed his lines, much to Jensen's joy. Murray had stood watching him, and the sneer had yet to leave his face. After the scene had ended, he turned to the director. 

"This is all wrong. He doesn't even know how to hold a gun. I should be the one to shoot her." 

"Chad, please, we've already talked about this; you know we have." The director, a harassed looking man in shorts and a sweatshirt hurried onto the set. "You know that the reason Peter shoots the girl is because she has to turn to your character later for protection. The story won't work if you do it the other way around." 

Rolling his eyes, Chad stalked away. "Send someone for me when you're ready. I'll be in my trailer where I don't have to watch him." 

Throughout this exchange, Jared had stood open mouthed. Jensen wondered for a moment if he would break down again, but to his delight he saw the tall youngster's jaw firm, and a change came over him, a change that recalled the way he'd responded to the insults that Chris had leveled at him. 

For the rest of the day, Jared succeeded in nailing every scene he was in, and although he got nothing but scornful glances from his co-star, the rest of the production staff seemed to appreciate him. By the time they wrapped for the night he was on first name terms with everyone on the set – everyone except for Chad Murray, who continued to curl his lip and ignore him. 

The ride home was much less fraught with emotion than the trip out had been – at least from Jared's end of things. Jensen sat beside Jared again, recalling the feel of him under his fingertips and longing hopelessly for more. 

"So now you're a movie actor," he murmured as they turned onto Fairfax, heading back towards Jensen's house. 

"Guess I am," said Jared, dimples creasing his cheeks as he favored Jensen with his widest grin. 

"And you're gonna be brilliant, despite your asshole co-star." Jensen tapped his camera case. "I captured it all for posterity, you know." 

"Can I…?" Jared swallowed, suddenly uncertain. "Do you think I could send a couple of photos home to my mama?" he asked, suddenly shy again. 

"Dude, of course you can. As many as you want." Jensen looked shocked, wondering why Jared thought he might object. 

A relieved smile almost split Jared's face in two, and his eyes sparkled as he murmured his thanks, swaying momentarily closer to Jensen, and Jensen could, for just that moment, believe that one day he'd suck up the courage to lean forward those final couple of inches and kiss him. 

Back at home once more, they found Steve awaiting a report on the day, and the evening devolved into a battle of Grand Theft Auto. Katie made her appearance a little later, and partway through the contest she had draped herself over Jared's lap. Right then the party suddenly lost most of its luster as far as Jensen was concerned. 

Not long after that, Jensen excused himself from the fun and made his sulky way to his bedroom, where he intended to make the most of a bottle of hand lotion and the latest photos of Jared. 

Life was hard.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

The weeks flew by, and Jensen saw very little of Jared. 'Thieves' was an independent production, and shooting was completed in only four weeks. From there he'd gone straight into a supporting actor role in 'Shindig', which was a chick flick starring Zac Efron. Jared seemed to have a better time on that set, and when Jensen did finally see him stumble out of his bedroom at 2pm the second Sunday after the start of production, he looked tired and drawn. Slumping down at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee and a slice of pizza that was left over from Jensen's evening at home, he volunteered nothing, and seemed to be very different from his normally shy but easy going self.

Jensen waited until he'd finished his pizza and poured himself a second cup of coffee before he cleared his throat. 

"Someone kick your dog, man? You don't seem to be too happy. Wanna tell old uncle Jensen?" The sight of Jared looking so depressed was unnerving him. Jensen wanted to take him in his arms and kiss him until he forgot all about whatever trivia was bugging him. Instead, he rose to his feet and went to get the cookie tin, knowing that Jared loved the chocolate chip cookies he'd bought the day before. 

Jared lifted his eyes to Jensen and shrugged, declining. "I'm okay," he said. 

"Excuse me for arguing with you, but you sure don't seem okay to me. What's going on, Jaybird?" Jared turning down cookies denoted serious emotional trauma. Jensen leaned forward, laid his hand on Jared's shoulder, hoping to comfort him or at least connect with him. He removed it very quickly as he felt Jared flinch. 

"Look, I'm sorry, all right?" Jared grabbed his mug and rose to his feet, turning on his heel and stalking back to his room and leaving Jensen to scratch his head in bafflement. He'd been sure that Jared was enjoying himself. Now, it seemed as though he was completely wrong, and he had no idea what had happened to make the object of his desire miserable. 

Jared had locked his door, and Jensen didn't know what to say to him anyway. Frowning, he wondered how to find out what was bugging the young man he'd fallen in love with, and hot on the heels of that, he realized for the first time that he actually was in love with Jared. He sat in a daze for a little while, and then an idea came to him. Retreating to his office, he went to call the one person he thought Jared might have confided in. 

"Hey, Katie?" Jensen smiled determinedly, trying his best to keep the jealousy out of his voice. Katie seemed to appreciate his effort, because she didn't hang up on him. 

"Jennybean! To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked, little girly voice in full force. 

"I want to talk to you. Can we… I don't know. Go for lunch, or ice cream, or… I dunno. Name your drug of choice." Now that he was thinking about it, this maybe didn't seem like such a good idea. Katie was mean when she was riled, and he still remembered the bruises she'd inflicted on him the last time he'd displeased her. Somehow Jared seemed to get a free pass, but he was different. Jensen had never qualified for that kind of acceptance from Katie. 

The girly voice disappeared in a heartbeat. "Sure," she said. "Canter's. Let's go eat matzos, and you can grill me about Jared. I assume that's what this is all about?" 

"Did I ever tell you that I love you?" The sweet relief that flooded Jensen's system was almost orgasmic. He let go the breath he hadn't been aware that he was holding and smiled for real. 

"You did, but you were lying. I'll see you in a half hour at Canter's. Bring your appetite." She hung up without further words, and he scrambled to get his stuff together so he could get there on time. 

Tapping on Jared's door a few minutes later, Jensen called that he was going out, but heard no response, and assumed that Jared had fallen back to sleep.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

He made Canter's with less than a minute to spare, and seconds later Katie's car roared into the parking lot. Greeting her with a wave of his hand, he sauntered over and offered his arm. She was dressed in a denim mini and a t-shirt that proclaimed her love of Metallica, and as she sashayed towards him he felt another stab of jealousy. How could he even deal with the fact that Jared wanted her and not him? She was attractive, for sure, but she was calculating, often bitchy and always sarcastic. Jensen wished with all his heart that he had the place in Jared's heart that she seemed to enjoy.

The deli was as busy as it usually was, but once they were seated, and had ordered their drinks, Katie sighed in satisfaction. "I love this place. They give you pickles." 

"I'm not that fond of pickles, but their mac and cheese is awesome." Jensen sipped his coffee and pushed the plate of pickles over closer to Katie's side of the table. "Dig in!" 

Nibbling on a piece of crunchy green awesomeness, Katie eyed him suspiciously. "Okay, Jen-Jen. Hit me with whatever is bugging you. You're an open book to me, and I've a feeling that it's a book from the adult section of the library." 

"It's Jared, of course," he murmured after a pause. "Like you didn't already realize it would be! See, he's not happy, and that's worrying me. He was so excited to do the movies, and he's rocking the parts, but he looks like he's really depressed, and when I asked him what the problem was he just took off on me. When I left the house he was locked in his room, ignoring me." 

He'd expected her to be understanding, maybe offer sympathies and join with him in a plan to break Jared out of his misery. Instead, he saw irritation in her eyes, watched a snarl mar her pretty face and felt an icy shiver seep down his back as she leaned forward. 

"I must be completely mad to think that I could make a difference to this entire stupid situation." She bit hard into the pickle she was holding, and Jensen swallowed nervously. 

"I don't understand," he said, his voice a little higher than it would normally be. 

"I can see that!" She sighed impatiently. "You don't seem to see anything, even when it's right under your nose. I'm at a loss as to how you get through life, let alone make money by finding photographic opportunities. I've never met a more bone-headed, unintuitive, undiscerning man in my life, and I've met a lot of guys who lack insight." 

"Yeah." Anger chased Jensen's apprehension away, and he flushed. "And abusing me is sure gonna make a difference – not. If you'd actually tell me what the fuck it is you think I'm missing, maybe I'd get a clue. Until then, I'm likely to remain in the dark, so come on and spill it."

She was smirking by the time Jensen had finished his outburst, and she leaned forward to pat his cheek. "Don't you worry, silly," she said. "By the time you leave here, I will have stolen your innocence forever." 

"Katie…" Jensen's voice had achieved some menace of its own. "Quit with the power play and just tell me what Jared's problem is, please." 

"It's very simple really," she said, still smirking. "He's in love." 

"I suppose you're dicking him around, are you?" Jensen was really angry now. "That would be just like you." He would have said more, except that she began to giggle. "What the fuck?" he thundered. 

"He's not in love with me, stupid," she cooed. "I don't know what would give you that idea." 

"Look, cut the crap!" Jensen had raised his voice, and the lady who was coming to take their order suddenly veered away, looking worried. "I want to know who needs a kick up the butt. Who's messing with Jay?" 

"You are, you silly man," she said, starting to laugh. "He's been totally gaga for you since about five minutes after he met you. He's pretty much eating himself alive with his desperate manpain. I keep on telling him just to grab you and let you have it, but he's a chicken." 

"Me?" Jensen's voice hit the highest register possible. "You're kidding me… Aren't you?" 

"Would that I were," she said softly. "He was doing okay with it, until you smooched him or whatever you did and broke through all his defenses." 

"I didn't smooch him!" Jensen was shocked, thinking back and trying to think of any occasion when he might have been perceived to be affectionate with his protégé, and suddenly he remembered the hug and the surreptitious kiss he'd given Jared, back when he had appeared so nervous at the start of filming 'Thieves'. "I might have hugged him once," he whispered. "Wasn't really a smooch." 

"Well, you should have smooched him then." Katie poked his shoulder repeatedly with one long-nailed, bony finger. "You fucked him up, and now he's miserable. Not only that, but that douche-bag Murray hasn't lost a single opportunity to rag on the poor boy. He's been around the cast of 'Shindig', too, telling them god knows what. Someone must have told him about your bet, and he's been as bitchy as… well, as me." 

"Who told him?" Jensen's head was reeling, and he wanted to run back to Jared and wrap him up in his arms. He also wanted to punch Chad Michael Murray out and tote his battered remains back to Jared as a peace offering. 

"If I were to guess, I'd say it was your ex." Katie had decided what she wanted to eat and was fixing the waitress with the evil eye. All conversation ceased as the poor woman crept over to take their orders. 

Left to themselves again, Jensen spread his hands helplessly. "So what do I do?" he asked her. 

"Jensen Ackles, if you need me to explain the birds and the bees to you, then you're more pathetic than even I could possibly imagine." She crunched the last pickle and gave him a predatory smile. "Do you actually care for my Jaybear or not?" she asked him. 

He nodded wordlessly, and she clapped her hands together. "In that case, don't you think that the solution is obvious? Just go home and make things right, or I'll disembowel you with only my fingernails!" As she waved the weapons of choice under his nose, Jensen made up his mind that no matter what, Jared was going to be his. Nodding, he set to eating his mac and cheese as swiftly as he could. He wanted to go home.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

An hour later, he was parking his truck on the driveway, and dashing back into the house in the hopes that Jared would be there. At first it seemed as though the house was deserted, but listening carefully he could hear faint music coming from Jared's room. Striding down the corridor, he felt a fluttering of anticipation tighten his groin, and he wished that he hadn't eaten, because the food was threatening to rise again and choke him before he found out whether he and Jared could ever become any more than they were at present.

Jared's door loomed in front of him, a punctuation mark in the rhythm of his life. Lifting his hand, he tried the door. It was locked, so, shrugging, he tapped. "Jay?" 

"Go away, Jensen." Jared's voice sounded thick, and Jensen could tell that he'd been crying. At least he was inside the room and hadn't fled the house. Turning away, Jensen hurried to the kitchen to grab a couple of glasses and a bottle of JD. Returning, he tapped on the door again. 

"Let me in, Jay. I need to talk to you." 

"I don't need to talk to you," was the forlorn reply. The door remained closed. Shrugging, Jensen set his bottle down on the floor and put the glasses beside it. 

"Open the door, Jay, or I'ma knock it down." Jensen tossed his jacket back in the direction of his bedroom and prepared to bash the door in. He was about to lift one booted foot and kick the lock out, when the door opened and Jared stood there, hair standing up wildly around his head, clad only in his sweat pants. 

"What do you want?" He sounded sullen, and turned to go back to his bed without meeting Jensen's gaze. 

"You." Jensen gathered his bottle and glasses and followed Jared in, wondering how long it would be before Jared processed what he'd just said. 

As it happened, Jared had almost reached the bed by the time it sank in what Jensen had said. He stiffened, but didn't turn. "What?" he said, a growl in his voice that Jensen had never heard before, but which sent tingles through him and made him put his hand down to adjust his cock, which was becoming uncomfortable in his underwear as it began to fill. 

"You heard me," he said. "I want you. I've wanted you since that first morning, when you came out of the shower, freshly shaved and looking like a million bucks." He set his bottle and glasses on Jared's nightstand and stepped in closer. "I didn't think it was fair to make a play for you, because you were dependent on me, and you might have felt obliged to let me have my way with you, but now you're earning, and that doesn't apply, and I want you so bad." He reached to put his hands on Jared's shoulders. "I can't think of anything else but you, Jay." 

Jared didn't respond, didn't look up, didn't say anything, and Jensen froze, afraid that he'd be turned down. The hell with that. He was most definitely not going to let Jared turn him down. He stepped in, pulled Jared close and lifted one hand to tip the man's chin toward him. "Gonna kiss you now, dude," he growled, and did. 

From standing frozen like a deer in headlights to melting against Jensen took only a couple of seconds. As Jensen's lips met his, Jared gave a soft little moan, and his arms went around him. A moment later the two of them were on the bed, and Jared was devouring Jensen's mouth, his body taut against him, and his hard cock pressing against Jensen's thigh. 

Jensen almost couldn't believe it. He ran his hands down over Jared's torso, dipping his fingers down under the elastic of his sweats to find and knead the muscular buttocks, drawing little gasping sounds from Jared that sent sparkles of lust flickering through him to ignite his nerve endings. 

Rolling them both over, Jensen felt Jared arch up against him, and he ran his hand down over the toned body, savaging his mouth as he touched, stroked and gripped. His body craved Jared, and he couldn't get enough of him, the taste of him, the feel and the heat their bodies were generating as they kissed and kissed. Mouth to mouth, breaths mingling as they explored each other, found and mapped the smooth hardness of teeth and began to learn the soft, smooth and silken slide of tongue against tongue.

Curling his fingers around Jared's trembling right hand, Jensen tugged it loose and slid it down from its hold on his waist until he could press it against the rubbery tightness of his dick. The touch made him gasp and moisture oozed to drip onto their joined hands. He wriggled suggestively, speechless with need. He linked his fingers into Jared's around the proud, leaking flesh and prompted him to start jacking it. Groaning, Jared slid his hand up and down on the thick curve of Jensen's rapidly growing cock and was rewarded by Jensen's hiss of pleasure as he stroked. 

This was what Jensen had craved; this was what he wanted, and he realized as he sucked on Jared's mouth that he'd never needed anyone or anything as much as he needed this, right here and now. 

Jensen reached around broad shoulders, pulling Jared to cover him. Jared was all silken skin against Jensen’s fingertips, slip-gliding over sinew and muscle as the young man lifted his hand to his mouth to wet it and then fumbled down to open Jensen up, pushing a thick finger into him. 

Jared put a hand on the back of Jensen's head as if to guide him, and Jensen slipped down, docile as you please, sending a muffled moan humming out from around Jared's cock. He could feel Jared sliding warm fingers down beneath his shirt, the slight tremor a testament to how much he was holding back, and he shifted a little under the touch, getting the angle right to take Jared deeper. A sharp, sudden, sucking pull yanked a groan out of Jared, and Jensen's fingers tightened reflexively on his lover's hips. When Jared finally found his voice, it was hoarse, desperate for more, scratchy with need that found an answer in Jensen's drooling, pulsing cock. "Oh, yeah... keep going..." 

Jensen could tell that Jared's hips wanted to move. He concentrated on laving him with slick wetness, heated tongue swirling. He didn't think he'd ever be able to give this up, now he'd finally tasted it. He hoped to Christ he wouldn't have to. Starting to move, he worked his head up and down, saliva flooding his mouth to drip down the shaft in messy, sticky plenty, and he could see Jared watching himself disappear between the plush softness of Jensen’s lips. Reaching down, he squeezed the base of his cock, trying to stop himself from coming. 

"Oh, Jesus, Jensen!" Jared's voice was a hoarse growl that made Jensen look up at him, eyes wide and curious as he sucked, wanting, needing to make this good enough. "Please don't stop." 

Jensen let his lashes flutter closed again, shutting out the sight of Jared as he bit his lip and strained for more. The soft brush of Jared's palm over his hair was maddening. He moved a little, gasping at the feel of his jeans abrading his groin, knowing that he wouldn't be able to last, but not really caring, as long as he could have Jared like this, squirming and moaning under him. 

He dug his hands hard into Jared's thighs knowing it would leave fingerprints – his fingerprints – on Jared, claiming the other man as his. His throat worked as he tried to control his gag reflex. Another groan tickled his ears as Jared bucked a little, helpless. He looked up again, wanting to watch those tip-tilted eyes fly open for a surprised second as he began to reach for his climax. Jensen wasn't sure if he could keep it together, because his own dick was throbbing, tingling, and if so much as a cool breeze touched it, he would come. 

"God you're so good... so good..." 

Coming like a randy fifteen year old without even touching his dick would make him blush later, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself now. He bucked, moaned and took Jared deep into his throat. He could feel the dull, spreading burn at the base of his spine that heralded his orgasm. 

"Jensen, I'm gonna come." 

His fingers tightened again on those lean hips, and he lost it, hard and wonderful, bright stars flashing behind his eyelids, moaning as the taste of Jared exploded onto his tongue, sharp, acrid and powerful. 

He opened his eyes to find Jared panting and flushed, body still shaking a little. Twisting within the confines of his tight, sticky jeans, Jensen forced his blissed-out limbs to move, pulling himself out of his haze to gather Jared up into a kiss, pressing the taste of his own spunk into that beautiful mouth, teasing the younger man's tongue with his own. 

Jensen's hands roamed the soft, warm skin he'd only now begun to learn, and Jared groaned out his longing, shamelessly rutting against his thigh until the helpless grind against his sensitized flesh spoke of urgency all over again. Jensen tore at his jeans, shucking them and the soiled boxers beneath with a single, supple twist of his hips. His hand on Jared's cock made the other man arch and shudder, and Jensen felt those butterflies inside him again as he marveled at the shamelessness of his own desire. 

The need for Jared spiked, lust and love and longing sending sweet flickers through him. He pushed Jared back and climbed to straddle him, thighs spread over Jared's cock. "Got slick?" he growled, and Jared reached blindly, groping for the tube on his nightstand and passing it to Jensen. 

Jensen lost no time in fumbling himself open just far enough to get where he wanted. He rested his weight onto Jared, trying to relax and take him deep. Triumphantly, he felt the sweet burn and throb in his still-thrumming nerve endings at the helpless wail his action elicited from his partner. He glanced down to find Jared fisting the sheets, squirming and writhing, neck tensed into a pale bow as his hips tried to buck under his weight. He rose, sank down again, and allowed a sob to escape him. There was no way he'd ever give this up now that he'd found it. He whimpered softly and felt the raw cry deep in his bones. 

They danced, bodies twisting and sliding, sweat-slick and needy. Jensen wanted it to last forever, wanted to feel Jared under him, his and his alone, for the rest of time. All too soon Jared's body went rigid, and he shot with another scream, shuddering and arching wonderfully under Jensen's weight. Reaching to jack himself a couple more times, Jensen came again, squeezing out his essence to coat his hand and spatter Jared's belly while he gasped and whimpered through the piercing sweetness of his orgasm. 

Collapsing onto Jared, mindless of the sticky residue of passion, he wrapped his new lover in his arms and closed his eyes.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

The premiere of "Thieves Like Us" was respectably attended, and Jensen watched in approval as reporters zeroed in on Jared, wanting to know all about him. He stayed in the background, allowing Katie to appear at his side during the PR junket that followed, and Jared's face was suddenly known. His photographic spread in Cosmo sold out, and the magazines all clamored for more product.

It seemed that the little movie had garnered enough attention to go out on general release. All of a sudden, Jared's face was known, and Eric Kripke sent over script after script for him to read through. 

Steve came over for the evening, and he and Jensen sat together, strumming their guitars and working on a song that Steve said had stalled for him. 

"You're gonna do it, aren't you?" Steve was grinning ruefully. "You lucky bastard. How did you ever manage to pick him? You must have known that he'd be the one?" 

"Dude, you were with me every minute of that evening. You know that I didn't stack the deck." Jensen put his guitar to one side and rose to his feet. "It was my lucky night, I tell you. I've never felt happier in my life than I do now." 

"You really care for him, don't you?" Steve watched Jensen as he headed over to pick up the binder in which he'd put his most recent layout. 

"Yeah, you could say that." Jensen came back to hand the slim volume to his friend. "See? The camera loves him; the press loves him; the fans love him, and I love him too." 

"Does he know?" Smiling, Steve leafed through the photos Jensen had passed to him. It was a fashion shoot, and Jared had modeled a set of clothes that ranged from preppy to punk and back. "Jeez, who'd have thought that this was hiding under all the grime and hair?" 

"He knows; I'm sure he knows." Jensen nodded as he studied his work. "I don't think it's possible to take a bad picture of him. He's got that certain something that makes love to the camera." 

"Murray doesn't like him. He was with Chris the other night at the club, talking smack about him. What did Jay do to upset him? I mean, I can see why Chris might have a grudge, but why did Chad take a dislike to him?" Steve offered Jensen a cigarette and then lit one for himself, leaning back and inhaling with a contented sigh. 

"I guess he was just a better actor," said Jensen, grinning as he lit his own cigarette and then moved over to the patio doors to pull them open and step outside.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

The Oscars had arrived at last, and the weather was uncertain, with thick, yellowish clouds scudding across a windy sky. The red carpet had been rolled out, but the public that lined the barrier all wore jackets and huddled together to protect themselves against the wind.

Jensen, taking advantage of his press pass, had been there early, staking out the best possible location for his photographs. He snapped away, capturing the Clooneys, the Pitts and the Smiths, but his concentration was lacking. He was waiting for the person he cared most about, and as Jared's limo drew up at the edge of the sidewalk and Jared climbed out of the car, turning to assist Katie to alight, Jensen felt like cheering. 

Jared looked stunning, clad in a chocolate brown silk tux, with a white shirt, the brilliance of which was matched only by the brightness of his grin. Katie was dressed in a confection made from sea green silk that billowed around her, lending her an elfin quality Jensen knew for a fact she didn't possess. 

As the two of them passed him on their way into the theater, Jared fixed him with his sweetest smile and gave him a thumbs up. A second later, he saw his lover surrounded by reporters, but thought nothing more of it until much later, when he went to find Jared and was told he'd left the building. 

Jensen had remained remote during the ceremony, and had no idea that anything out of the ordinary had happened, until, stepping out of the auditorium, he found himself surrounded by reporters. 

"Come on, guys," he said, grinning. "You don't want me. Look, you've got Cate Blanchett right there. I'm just the photographer." 

"...Is it true that you picked Padalecki up off the street?" 

"...Can you confirm that Jared was a whore until you plotted to foist him on the public?" 

"...Is there any truth in the story that Padalecki is dying from AIDS after being out on the street peddling heroin?" 

"...What's the truth in the rumor…" 

The barrage of questions was like a sudden bucket of cold water to the face. Stuttering, he tried to make sense of what was being asked of him. 

"Come on, guys," he said again. "Where are you getting this crap from? Someone's making up stories, and feeding you bullshit." 

"So are you saying that there's no truth to the rumor that Padalecki was out on the street, and that he was a sex trade worker before he hit the bigtime?" Melissa Rivers had her microphone jammed into his face, and he was starting to feel not only irritated with the onslaught of questions, but also horribly worried about Jared. 

"Listen; Jared's story is his to tell. I'll talk to him about this, and he'll issue a statement later. You guys are listening to the wrong people, and this is all bullshit." The even tone of his voice belied the churning apprehension in his gut, and he shouldered through the reporters, who continued to bombard him with speculative questions until he finally reached his vehicle. 

They crowded around his car, and he thought he would have to run someone over before they would let him leave. Finally out on the thoroughfare, he headed home, hoping against hope that Jared hadn't been pestered by the media, knowing that his hope would prove false. Pulling into his driveway, he was dismayed to see several cars already parking along the street, and he fled for the front door, towing his equipment with him, only slightly in advance of the throng.

Inside, the house was silent. He called for Jared, but there was no answer, and after a brief search he had to admit that wherever Jared was, his house was not the place. For a few moments he wanted to sink down into a chair and weep. Things had been going so well, and now they were falling apart. He dialed Katie, but she wasn't answering her phone, and when he tried to get Jared, he heard the unmistakable ringtone that heralded Jared's phone sounding from the dresser beside the front door. He threw his phone down and went to find a drink. 

Several glasses of Jack Daniels later, and somewhat the worse for them, he tried to develop a plan of action. Picking up his phone again, he rang Steve, hoping he might have some insight into what had just happened. As Steve's phone started to ring, he heard a sound from the kitchen door, and hung up, wondering whether the reporters had invaded his yard, or whether it was Jared arriving home. Rushing into the kitchen in the hopes of seeing Jared, he tripped over the edge of the rug and tumbled full length to the ground, smacking his forehead against the door jamb and seeing stars. 

When he gathered his scattered wits and finally dragged himself up to his knees, head swimming and groggy with alcohol and pain, instead of seeing Jared there, it was Chris who was leaning up against the doorframe, smirking at him. 

"Well, look at you, Jenny; you're not doing too well today, are ya?" 

Pulling himself to his feet, Jensen staggered a little, but his voice was clear when he growled, "What are you doing here?" 

"I just came to commiserate with you, because I see that your bright-eyed little protégé seems to have flown the coop." Chris was grinning, chin held insolently as he prodded Jensen's shoulder, making him stagger again. "What's the matter? Did you think he was gonna ring your chimes for you? He was using you, Jen, pure and simple. You really need to know just who your friends are."

"You need to get out," growled Jensen, finally leaning on the wall and letting the relief sink through him. His head ached and he felt as though he might throw up any moment. "What do you know about Jay? What did you do?" 

"Jay, is it? I must remember that." Chris laughed, an ugly sound. "Well, me and Chad got together and decided to let the public in on your little plot to pull the wool over their eyes, so we held a little gathering in the bar and told them all about your wager. I guess Jared wasn't too pleased with the way the reporters suddenly went after him, because he and that bitch Katie took off like they had a date with the devil. By the way, are you thinkin' you stand a chance with him, because he's all over that skinny slut. I think you missed the bus there, baby. All he's interested in is getting what he can out of you, and you can't compete with pussy, pretty though you are." 

"What I do and what Jared does are no concern of yours." Jensen wished he could punch Chris, but he knew that in his present state he would probably miss and fall over again. "So get the fuck out of my house, and out of my life too."

"Gonna make me, Jen?" Chris's smile was wider than ever. "Oh, come on. You know you love me really."

Chris stepped in, cupped Jensen's cheek and leaned in to kiss him, and at that moment the door opened and Jared stood there, reporters behind him all clamoring for information. Jensen tried to push Chris away, and overbalanced, slowly collapsing onto the floor as Chris turned to Jared. "Best pack your things and leave. Jensen's done with you. Deal's over, and he's back with me now."

On the floor, head spinning, Jensen tried to clear his thoughts. "Jay, no!" he croaked, but Jared had turned and the door was closing behind him even as he called, and a moment later, Chris gave a laugh and made for the door. 

"Looks like my work here is done, Jenny. Nobody dumps Chris Kane without paying the penalty." With that, he pushed his hat down on his head and followed Jared out, leaving Jensen sitting dejectedly on the floor.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Someone was shaking him, and he was trying his best to stop it, but his limbs weren't working, and his head ached.

"Come on, Jen, wake the fuck up." 

Opening his eyes, Jensen squinted up at Steve Carlson. "Don' wanna," he slurred. 

"Jesus Christ, Jen, are you drunk?" Steve's voice was sharp, and Jensen tried to think. Was he drunk? He thought he might be. Shit! Everything came rushing back to him at that moment. 

"Jay's gone, Steve," he said. "Maybe Chris was right." 

"What do you mean, 'Chris was right'? What did that asshole say?" Jerking Jensen to his feet made him sway, but he didn't feel too bad - at least until Steve got in his face and gave him a shake. "What did he say?" he growled again. 

"Told me Jay was fucking Katie an' pulling the wool over my eyes to get what he could out of me. Told Jay that he should leave because I was back with him, and then Jay just went." Jensen felt a wave of self pity rise in him, and choked back a sob, which made Steve snort and shake him again. 

"Go get your face cleaned up." Steve towed him ungently toward the bathroom. "We've got very little time if you want to get this all sorted out." 

"What? Why?" Jensen reached for the cold water tap as he spoke, and turned it on. Checking his face in the mirror, he was horrified to see the way he looked, red eyed and flushed, with a lump the size of an egg on his temple from which blood had snaked in a line down the side of his face. "Oh, God!" He cupped his hands and pulled water to his face, and then shrugged and stuck his entire head under the tap, shuddering as the cold water ran over it. 

"Katie called me, because you weren't answering your phone." Steve had reached for a towel, and as Jensen straightened up once more he extended it. "She says Jared's going home. He's catching the next bus, which apparently leaves in less than two hours." 

Eyes wide, Jensen paused in his efforts to dry off. "Going back to Texas?" he said. 

"Yeah. Going back to Texas." Steve sounded angry. "And if he's only out for what he can get off you, how come he's not taken all the stuff you bought for him?"

Jensen had no answer for him. He merely stood looking miserable. "What can I do? I don't want him to leave. Steve, what can I do?" 

"Well, standing here feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to get you where you want to go. Come on!" Without waiting for his reply, Steve swept out of the bathroom and towards the door, leaving Jensen, still groggy, to follow him as best he could.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

The reporters clustered around the front of Jensen's house had surrounded the two of them as they went to Steve's car, but had finally let them leave when Jensen promised to talk to them the following morning. Left to their own devices at last, the two of them climbed into Steve's car - optimistically named the 'Passion Wagon', and set off for Chez Cassidy.

Katie lived out at Studio City, in a very ostentatious house just off Magnolia Boulevard. As Steve pulled into her driveway, Jensen heard him give a sigh of relief at the sight of her little car still parked there beside the garage door. "Looks like we made it. Fingers crossed. Come on!" 

Jensen grabbed Steve's arm. "Listen, dude, I get that you're trying to help, and that's cool. I just don't understand _why_. Care to elucidate?" 

A flush turned Steve's tanned features an even darker brown than usual. "See, Katie and I..." He paused, swallowed, then gave a sigh and turned to meet Jensen's eyes. "You know we used to go out together, once upon a time. I wrote songs for her – she was my Piñata Novia. We were pretty close, but I fucked up." He shrugged. "You never heard the story, because I kept it quiet. It doesn’t reflect particularly well on me, I’m afraid. No matter. We broke up, and it was tough. She hates me for what happened, and I want to do this for her, because I really want her to see me as a good guy. I’m still kinda sweet on her. Besides, I kinda like Gargantua; he’s a nice kid." 

"You still like Katie?" Jensen frowned. This was news to him. Did Katie still want Steve? On reflection maybe it explained why the blonde had agreed to help out with Jared in the first place. "Dude, you're gonna have to tell me about what you did to piss her off later, when my head doesn't feel like it went under a steamroller."

"Yeah, right." Steve was opening the door of his car as he spoke, and he turned again to tell Jensen to hurry. Moving over to the front door, he rang the bell, and almost immediately the door opened. 

"Thank God!" Katie ignored Steve completely in favor of reaching past him to grab Jensen's shirt front and yank him into the living room. "What the fuck did I say to you when we last talked? See these fingernails?" She brandished her left hand at Jensen, who instantly turned pale. "If you don't fix things in the next half hour, you're gonna be looking for an experienced knitter to get your entrails organized again. He's in the kitchen. Go!" 

Nodding meekly, Jensen fled in the direction she'd pointed, leaving her and Steve face to face. "And what are you standing there for? Go and sit down." It wasn't surprising that Steve moved instantly to do as she'd said. 

In the kitchen, Jensen found Jared, still wearing his tux - although now it was no longer elegant, the tie hanging unknotted from his neck - sitting on a stool, leaning against the breakfast bar with his head in his hands, long, strong fingers rumpling his shaggy hair. Jensen paused, allowing a flood of relief to loosen his joints and send a sudden warmth through him. 

"Jay?" 

Jared didn't respond, and Jensen went closer. "Jay? Look at me. Come on; I need you to look at me." 

"Go away, Jensen." The usually rich voice was thready and nasal as if Jared had been crying. 

"Jay, don't leave me." Jensen's plea was anguished, and at that Jared did lift his head, sniffed once and turned to look at him. 

"Why did you tell them all those lies?" he asked. "Chris said you told them about me." 

"And you believed him?" The thought made Jensen shake with fury. "How could you believe him? He's the one that talked to the press - him and Murray. I don't even know what he said, but I know it was him, because he told me. He was proud of the fact that he'd broken us up." 

"That's why he was kissing you, I suppose." The words were sarcastic, and Jared looked away from Jensen, hitching his shoulders in a gesture that indicated his uncertainty. 

"Look at my forehead!" Jensen reached to turn Jared's face towards him again, pointing to the lump there that was now turning blue. "I fell. Hit my head, and I wasn't even quite sure where I was. He came in and started to gloat about how he'd sent you away. I was just trying to get my wits together." His face softened as he passed his thumb over Jared's cheek. "Please don't leave me, Jay, not when I've only just found you." 

It was apparent from Jared's longing look that he wanted to believe Jensen, and the photographer moved closer, bent to graze his lips over Jared's, wringing a little sound from the young man as he closed his eyes. It was easy then, and as Jensen licked along the seam of his lover's lips, Jared gave a groan and opened to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss until it became something more than just a kiss, until it became a promise. 

Hands, mouths, bodies pressed together. Jensen suddenly found himself swung up and deposited onto the counter top, and promptly wrapped his legs around Jared's waist. They ground against each other, hands fumbling inside clothing to find and caress. There was no finesse to what they were doing. They snatched and tore at each other as they swallowed moans, nipping and biting in their need to get closer, have more of each other, now. Jensen came, hips shuddering and breath locking up as he ate at Jared's mouth. Jared came a few moments later, slicking the palm of Jensen's hand and probably ruining forever the beautiful tux he wore.

They were still locked together, mouth to mouth and oblivious to the world, when Katie entered the kitchen, followed by Steve, who was looking rather red faced and somewhat pleased with himself. "That's what I'm talking about," he murmured, grinning at Katie, who frowned and shushed him. 

Too late. The two men drew apart and turned in unison to look at the intruders into their reconciliation. Stepping forward, Katie patted Jensen's shoulder. "Okay, Jennybean, your entrails are safe. Just take care of my boy, will you? He's not yet hardened to the lifestyle like you and I." 

"So are you still hightailing it back to San Antone?" Steve had stepped forward to put his arm around Katie, who suddenly seemed to be less prickly and much more feminine than she had done even five minutes before."

"No." It was Jensen who spoke. "He's gonna stay with me, aren't you, Jay?" 

Looking up at Jensen from within the circle of his arms, Jared blinked lazily and nodded. "Yeah. Reckon I am." 

Katie had brought out a bottle of champagne from the wine cooler in the corner of the kitchen, and handed it to Steve to open while she busied herself getting out the glasses. There was a sudden pop as the cork shot out to hit the ceiling, and Steve beamed. "Hey, Ackles, I've got a bet for you. How about…?" 

He didn't manage to say any more, as all three of his companions made catcalls and generally voiced their displeasure. Pouring the champagne swiftly to divert their attention, Steve lifted his glass. "Okay, guys, here's to you. It just goes to show that you can make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." 

And amid the general outcry, he turned to Katie and pressed a kiss to her very surprised mouth. "Let's leave them to it. You and I have some catching up to do." 

As Katie nodded, docile and smiling, Jensen ran his fingers down over Jared's cheek again. "So do we, but we've got plenty of time to do it." 

"All the time in the world," agreed Jared.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

The following morning, Jensen woke before the dawn and very carefully eased himself out from the loose-limbed hold Jared had on him. Stealthily padding out to the kitchen, he paused a moment to study his sleeping lover.

Jared, long limbs sprawled every which way, lay on his belly, one arm flung out over where Jensen had lain, the other tucked under his pillow. The vague frown on his brow indicated to Jensen that he’d been missed, and that Jared would be waking soon. Turning, he hurried off to get breakfast together so that he could return to bed and rejoin his lover.

Peering through the window that looked out onto his driveway, he could see that the reporters were still massed there in force, and recalled his promise to put them out of their misery. Pulling open the door, he called out that they would come out to talk to them in an hour, and then swiftly retreated into his kitchen to brew coffee and toast a couple of bagels.

Carrying the tray back to his bedroom, He could see that Jared had shuffled himself over to occupy Jensen’s pillow, and he smiled to himself as he set his burden down. Jared still lay prone, and Jensen paused to admire the long, sweeping line of his spine, the spread of his shoulders and the sheer perfection of smooth, brown skin packed tightly with muscle. Bending, he touched his tongue to the first knob on Jared’s spine, savoring the salt taste that invaded his senses.

“What?”

Jared tensed, breath catching as he mumbled, then rolled over to lie on his back and yawn himself awake as Jensen watched.

“It’s only me. I brought us some breakfast.” Jensen kicked away his jeans and slid back into the bed beside Jared, feeling the heat from his lover’s body take away the chill from his flesh. 

“Food?” Jared rolled to cover him, arms enveloping as he bent to snatch a kiss. “Need food.”

“Yeah, food. Coffee and bagels. Get off me, you big ox, or I can’t give it to you.” Jensen was laughing as he shoved at his lover. “C’mon, idiot. I can’t breathe.”

Moving back with a pout, Jared watched as Jensen reached over the side of the bed to retrieve the tray, offering the plate and mug with a little flourish. 

“You’ll make me a splendid wife,” smirked Jared as he took possession of the food and began immediately to devour it.

“I’m not the girly one.” Jensen growled, setting down his coffee mug and turning to study the man beside him. Jared’s eyes were dancing with mirth, his beaming smile was in full evidence, and Jensen felt the sight of him like a punch to the gut. Just gazing at him, sleep-mussed hair poking out like a crazy halo and face alight with laughter, made his insides melt down and sent tingling excitement flooding his groin.

“Shit!” He reached out to take Jared’s plate from him and set it down on the night stand. “You know what you do to me?”

Whatever Jared’s response would have been was swallowed whole as Jensen moved to capture his mouth, sink himself deep and fucking _lose_ himself in the slip and glide of tongue over tongue. 

Jared kissed like it was the last time he would ever do it, two hands coming up to take possession of Jensen’s cheeks and turn him the way he wanted. There was a subtle current of violence in the way he manhandled Jensen, rolling him back against the pillows and assuming control of the kiss. Jared’s mouth tasted of sweetened coffee and his lips slid against Jensen’s, sending shivers of lust through him to curl somewhere at the base of his spine. All he could do was hang onto Jared and give it up to him, open to anything his lover chose to do.

Reaching out to take hold of his cock, Jared stroked him, slow and easy, and Jensen heard his own voice moan Jared’s name. Jared was hard already, cock sliding eagerly along Jensen’s thigh, and his hips had already started their own rhythm, back and forth to rub against him. He bit into Jared’s full lower lip and shivered at the resulting buck against him. 

He could feel Jared groping for a condom, and took pity on him, reaching out to the drawer in his night stand to fish out what they needed. Peeling the wrapper away from the condom, he took the upper hand again, rolling it onto Jared with care. Jared whimpered, reached for the lube and managed to spill it everywhere with his trembling hands as he coated his fingers.

“Do it,” Jensen was right there with him, body shaking with need. When Jared kissed him again, fingers delving between his legs to spread them wide and find his center, he thought that somehow all the oxygen had vanished from the air. He gasped, forcing his legs further apart so that Jared could press in deep, and urging him on with little whimpering sounds he couldn’t seem to stop making.

Jared had buried his face in Jensen’s neck, mouth sucking the tender skin there as his fingers probed, one, two, then three. Jensen’s chest was slick with sweat, and he fisted Jared’s cock, dragging him around until he took the hint and crept between his knees to begin working his way inside.

They moved together, Jared filling Jensen, sliding in and out as he found a rhythm and rocked to it. Their eyes locked together, and Jared looked so young, so overwhelmed, that Jensen felt those butterflies low in his gut all over again. Jared’s expression was intense, and his teeth sank into his kiss-plumped lower lip as he moved, faster now, hips gaining speed as he fucked. Jensen shoved a hand down between them to take hold of his cock, knowing that it wouldn’t take much for him to shoot over the edge. Recognizing his need, Jared fumbled after him, closing his fist around Jensen’s to squeeze and stroke along with him.

“Gonna come for me?” The words were ground out, and Jared’s voice was whisky and honey, harsh and husky. Jensen didn’t answer, because he couldn’t. He was fighting to breathe, to be able to bear the sweetness that was filling his senses, locking up bone and muscle and stealing his breath. He cried out as he came, shuddering and blissful, body locking up around Jared until it was squeezing him so tight that it had to be almost painful, forcing him to follow. 

They lay together in an untidy heap afterwards, spent and happy. Jared was the first to move, finally rolling off to one side so he could deal with the condom.

“I promised the press we’d go answer questions. I think we owe it to Chris and Murray to set the record straight, don’t you?” Jensen ran his fingertips down over Jared’s abs and watched with satisfaction as they jumped under his touch.

“I guess.” Sitting up, Jared reached for his coffee, drinking the rest of it and then slapping Jensen’s thigh. “Better get your ass out of bed and make yourself look presentable then. Right now, you look like you’re recovering from an orgy.”

“That’s cos I am!” Jensen grinned as he rolled out of bed again and held out his hand to his lover. “Shower, tell the press all about it, and then we’ll go find something awesome at Basix for breakfast, okay?”

“You got it!” Climbing out to follow Jensen, Jared pressed a swift kiss to the back of his neck. “I’m all about the shower.”

“Hah! You don’t fool me; you’re all about the food.”

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

They were clean and dressed in no time, but when they opened the door and faced the tribe of reporters that had been camped there for the past couple of days, it was obvious even to the most casual observer that the two of them had been sexually active. Jared’s neck bore the marks of Jensen’s teeth, and Jensen’s mouth was still kiss-swollen, lusher and redder than ever as they stood on the step, looking down at the mob. Holding hands, the two of them waited as the cameras flashed and popped at them.

The crowd of reporters had pressed in around them as soon as they came outside, barking questions and yelling over the top of each other, until the noise and chaos was so bad that Jensen held up a hand, waiting for silence.

Slowly, the hubbub died, and he looked around at them. “Okay, guys. I promised we’d answer your questions, and we will, but you’ve gotta take it in turns. We can’t hear when you’re all yelling at once.”

“Did you really find Jared on the street?” The question was asked by a predatory looking blonde with very red lipstick. Jensen recalled her from the TV weekly magazine and smiled at her. 

“He did.” Jared’s voice was strong, and if he was feeling nervous it wasn’t evident. “I was assaulted when I first got to LA, and had all my belongings ripped off. I was injured, and I think I had a bit of a concussion. When Jensen found me, I was sleeping in an alley behind the Kodak theater.”

“Were you turning tricks? I’d heard that you were a prostitute.” The question came from a man standing beside a TV camera, and Jared laughed. 

“I bet I know who told you that.“ He beamed. “I’ve never taken a penny for sex in my life. Why? Do you think I could make a go of it?” He struck a slutty pose as he talked, hamming it up as the cameras clicked away, and it seemed that he’d won the crowd over. “This is my ‘Blue Steel’ pose. It’s Chris Kane’s favorite.”

For a moment or two there was laughter and cat-calls as Jared played them, then someone called out to Jensen, “So what did you win?” The questioner was an intense looking kid who seemed way too young for the job he was doing.”

“Steve’s a singer, you know that? One of the best! He’s got a Les Paul guitar that’s his pride and joy. Guess it’s mine now, but you know what? I’m going to leave it with him for now, because he sounds much better on it than I do, but he’s going to have to let me play it whenever I feel the need and no more bitching about me not being worthy.” There was more laughter as Jensen stopped talking, and Jared stepped forward again. 

“And he’s gonna be singing on Steve’s new album as a wedding present for him. He didn’t want to, but Katie and I both nagged him.” There was a smattering of applause then, before another voice called out the question Jensen had been waiting for.

“Jensen, we’ve been told that your reason for picking up Jared and your subsequent promotion of him was because you were playing with us – playing the media to prove some kind of point. What do you have to say to that?”

The crowd around them fell silent at that, and for a moment it was quiet enough for them to hear the liquid call of a mocking bird before a car passed along the street below. “Guys, I guess that’s what it looks like when viewed from a wide-angle lens, but if you get your shot in tight you’ll see it wasn’t like that. I was really depressed and heading for a breakdown, and my friend Steve was looking for ways to break me out of it. He bet me that I couldn’t make someone famous, and you know what? It really doesn’t matter what my motives were, or where Jared came from, because he’s the real deal. I lucked out when I stepped on him in that alley, because I found him, and I’m gonna keep him.”

Turning, he slid his arms around Jared and pulled him down for a kiss amidst more camera flashes and applause. As the reporters drifted away to file their stories, Jensen smiled up at his love. “A year ago I was on my way down. I never dreamed of how things would change. I love you.”

“Good thing too,” said Jared, smiling goofily. “Because according to Chinese custom, you helped me, and now you’re gonna _have_ to keep me.”

“Forever,” nodded Jensen. “I promise.”


End file.
